Revolution
by just slummin
Summary: NOW COMPLETE! MalRiver. This story is set one year after the events of Holding Pattern. As political unrest grips the 'verse, Serenity's crew deals with unrest of its own.
1. Chapter 1

**Revolution**

**Part I—Turn of the Wheel**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. I just like to play with them occasionally.

Rating: R

Author's Note: Set one year after "Holding Pattern".

Summary: As political unrest grips the 'verse, Serenity's crew deals with unrest of its own.

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"Wheel never stops turning, Badger," Mal had once said.

"That only matters to the people on the Rim," had come the short-sighted reply.

But Malcolm Reynolds knew differently. Having seen and experienced more than most men would dare to even contemplate, he knew the bitter truth that things set in motion, either by design or unwittingly, had far-reaching consequences, just as a turning wheel often leads one on unanticipated journeys.

He looked at the cortex screen with the weight of worry pressing heavily on his shoulders. Day by day, it seemed, more and more worlds embraced the thought of revolution against the Alliance, the fire fueled by news reports of atrocities committed throughout the 'verse.

Some would argue that the Miranda Wave had sparked the current unrest, and Mal had to admit it was at least partially true. But he could clearly divine the Operative's hand in the slant of the information being reported so rabidly by the newly emboldened press. The Operative had a subtle mind, and Mal could see the 'verse laid out before him like so many chess pieces on a checkered board, each piece being maneuvered carefully toward an ultimate check-mate.

And while Mal had no doubt about which pieces should prevail, it filled him with a sense of dread that his family and crew were, of necessity, probably going to be drawn into the deadly game. Years ago now, he had purchased Serenity with the idea that the Black held freedom, away from the iron grip of the Alliance, but he had come to realize how very naïve such a thought could be. Even before the current civil unrest, time and again he had found himself pulled into one confrontation or another with the repressive regime. And now, as the Alliance began to make its presence even more aggressively known, Mal could practically feel the noose tightening around his neck.

Wearily, he turned off the screen, and slipped quietly into bed beside his sleeping wife. Inhaling River's clean, fresh scent, he fell into a fitful sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Inara, too, sat at her cortex screen, skimming through the messages of prospective clients. She knew that the current political climate did nothing to increase Mal's business prospects, nor did it help her own. She found that she could scarcely stomach taking on Alliance clients now, but unfortunately, they made up the vast majority of prospects with coin enough to afford her services.

Inara, like Mal, had no desire to see the 'verse engulfed in another war. She had spent the first war in relative ease on Sihnon, perfecting her craft in the presence of charmingly handsome Alliance officers. Unification had seemed the only sane choice, the best possible future for all worlds spinning. But time and circumstance had shown her how thin the veneer of respectability could be, and association with Mal and Serenity's crew had taught her the cost of war in very human terms.

Sighing, she narrowed down her prospective client list to three and sat back to watch each one again. She had become increasingly careful about new clients since her brutal assault at the hands of Andrew Chau and Atherton Wing, partially for her own sense of well-being but also to accommodate her growing attachment to Jayne. There were unspoken rules between them, lines neither had the inclination to cross. Inara did not question what Jayne did as Serenity's resident muscle, and Jayne did not ask her anymore about the particulars of her work either. But Inara was acutely aware that if she chose a client poorly, and was hurt in the process, Jayne could not be deterred from taking matters into his own hands. And she knew, though she tried not to dwell on it, how very dangerous those hands could be. So, for his sake and her own, she chose more carefully now than ever before.

As she was entering the confirmation code for her selected client, she heard a light knock on her shuttle door.

"Ching jin," she called, expecting Mal to enter. Now that he was a husband and father, he was less inclined to enter uninvited.

She was surprised to see Jayne standing at her door instead. He stood uncertainly, barely containing the urge to shift from foot to foot. Inara's welcoming smile released him from his unaccustomed awkwardness, and he walked into the room.

"Hey, 'Nara," he said.

"Good evening, Jayne," she answered, as easily as if he came to her shuttle uninvited every day. "Won't you sit down?" she offered, gesturing to the couch.

"No,…No, I weren't aimin' to stay," he said hastily, standing in the middle of the room like a schoolboy called before his head mistress. He cleared his throat. "Was just wonderin' if you were, maybe, plannin' on comin' to my bunk tonight, is all."

Inara's elegant eyebrow lifted in surprise. In the year and a half that she and Jayne had been together, he had never once openly asked her to come to him, and he had not once taken the initiative to come to her in the night either. Of course, she thought wryly, he had also never turned her away when she came to him of her own accord. "Did you want me to come?" she asked softly.

"Well, yeah," Jayne said. "I mean, if'n you want to."

Inara regarded her lover seriously. "Is there something wrong, Jayne?"

"Naw, nothin's wrong," he said. "It's just, well…," He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "It's just I ain't been sleepin' so good here lately, with Mal in such a tetchy mood all the time. Sleep better when you're in my bed."

Inara smiled brightly, thinking that the simple admission from Jayne was tantamount to an effusive declaration of undying love from any other man. "I was just finishing up here. Can I join you in a few minutes?'

Jayne grinned, relieved to have gambled and won. "I'll be waitin'," he said, striding out of the shuttle, his confidence bolstered by success.

XXXXXXXXXX

Simon left the infirmary and tiptoed quietly into the passenger dorm that had been converted into Adam Reynolds' new room. Careful not to make enough noise to trigger the sensitive baby monitor whose mate resided in the Captain's bunk, he looked at his sleeping nephew. Adam lay curled into a ball, his little pink lips working at his thumb even in sleep. Simon smiled, thinking about how Mal and River were attempting to curb that habit in the child, with obviously limited success. He checked the railing that had been attached to the bed, though he knew it had already been checked repeatedly by River. Satisfied that it was secure, he stood quietly beside the bed just looking at the little boy. So much innocence, he thought achingly. Innocence such as had been ripped so cruelly from his sister by the Academy. Innocence such as he'd lost in the bloody mud of Athens, never to be regained. Closing his eyes against the horrors of those memories, he shuddered to think what the future might hold for this youngest of their family. Slipping back out of the room silently, he made his way through Serenity's darkened corridors and into the soothing arms of Kaylee.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal walked through Serenity Valley once again, the sound of firefights long gone now, leaving nothing but the moaning pleas of dying men and the crunch of his boots on the rocky soil. The stench of rotting flesh was so thick in the air that he could literally taste it, smoky, earthy, vaguely metallic on his tongue.

He found a solitary spot behind a boulder, with nothing but a corpse for company. Leaning back against the rock, he reached, by force of long habit, under his collar to finger the cross that hung there. He felt its smooth edges, worn down by years of desperate strokes in times of need. Suddenly bitter beyond all reason, he yanked the chain off his neck. He was pleased with the resultant sting to his skin. It confirmed that he was still alive. In disillusionment, he hurled the chain as far away as he could manage.

He looked up to see River standing a distance away, her long, dark hair blowing in the fetid breeze. She floated just off the ground, never quite touching the decay strewn at her feet. Swathed in a translucent dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, she was a vision of life in stark contrast to the death around them. She approached him slowly, his discarded cross catching the last light of the day as it dangled on its chain from her slim fingers.

"Don't want it back," he said, his voice full of gruff disenchantment.

"You will," she answered compassionately. "And I will keep it safe until you need it."

He heard the sound of bullet hitting bone and saw a spot of ruby-red blossoming on River's chest. Crying out in anguish, he saw her fall backward and dissolve into the sea of bodies at her feet, the chain the last thing to disappear into the unholy heap.

"No," he screamed, clawing through the rotting corpses frantically.

He awoke, panting and sweat-soaked, in his bunk. River stirred beside him, reaching out instinctively to calm him. Struggling to control his wildly beating heart, he pulled her close, reassured to feel her warmth against his skin.

"You were dreaming again, weren't you?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. 'Dreaming of Serenity Valley."

"Yes," he rasped, the images still too freshly horrifying to dismiss.

River laid her head against his chest, listening to the staccato beat of his tortured heart. "You think it will all happen again," she said. "Think there will be another war."

"Yes," he acknowledged, the word sticking in his throat.

"And you believe the outcome will be no better the second time," River pressed on.

Mal was silent for a long while before he answered. "Can't see as how it can be much different the second time around."

'Will be different," River asserted. "Can not possibly be exactly the same."

Mal regarded her soberly. "You see somethin' I should know about?" he asked quietly.

River gazed at him, her large eyes sad in the low light of their bunk. "No, ai ren. I see nothing but shadows, changing shapes without substance. Nothing is set. Too many variables."

Mal nodded. "If you did see something, would you tell me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "If it would help you to know."

They lay together quietly until River could feel Mal's heartbeat slow to its normal, steady rhythm. "If war does come, what will you do?" she asked, her own heart hammering in her chest unnaturally.

"What would you have me do?" Mal asked.

"Can't answer," River replied sadly. "Your decision."

Mal sighed, running his fingertips along the silky skin of her back. "Don't know, bao bei," he said. "And I hope to all that's holy, I ain't got to find out."

River's arm around him tightened, as she prayed that he would be spared the decision somehow, and that, if not, she would have the strength to help him live with the consequences of his choices, whatever they were.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Please, sir…please, I've told you everything I know. I swear. Please don't…" she paused, drawing a shuddering breath. "Don't hurt me anymore," she finished pitifully.

Jared Thompson gazed down at the woman who knelt before him, thinking idly that she had looked considerably better two days ago. She looked up at him, eyes pleading for mercy she had yet to see.

He reached out and touched her battered face almost tenderly with his fingertips. "Have you really?" he asked mildly. "Told me everything you know?'

Trembling, she began to cry long gasping sobs that only come from the truly broken. Over the course of the last two days, she had made the transformation from a moderately successful low-level technician for the underground movement on Osiris to the cowering wreck of a human before him.

"You're quite positive you know nothing more about the whereabouts of this so-called 'Operative'?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, the motion causing pain to her newly-misshapen face. "Nothing," she answered. "He doesn't reveal that even to the leaders of the movement."

"Whose names you've provided quite generously," Thompson commended. "That, and the information about the Academy students has earned you my mercy, my dear. You needn't worry that your indiscretions will come to light. Your secrets are perfectly safe with me."

She clung to his leg, weeping in shaky relief. "Th-Th-Thank you, sir," she stammered.

"You're welcome." He nodded once at the heavily muscled man standing impassively behind the woman. Pulling a short, thin wire from his pocket, the man slipped it quickly around the woman's neck and jerked her away from his boss with one vicious tug. Tender flesh cut to the bone, she clawed frantically for a moment before slumping soundlessly to the floor, her face set in a mask of betrayed terror.

Looking down at the stain of her blood and tears on the knee of his trouser leg, Thompson hissed in irritation. He stepped to an intercom and buzzed his assistant. "Tell the Senator I'll be delayed. And I'll need a fresh suit sent up immediately."

"Yes, sir," came the tinny reply.

Turning back to his man, he said, "Leave her at the docks. Make it look like a typical assault. Then, come back here. I'll want you with me when I meet with the Senator." He looked critically at his most trusted employee. "And take a few minutes afterward to clean up. Suit and tie. Wouldn't want to offend the good Senator's delicate sensibilities."

"Yes, sir," replied the large man, with just a trace of a smile on his thin, cruel lips.

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To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Revolution**

**Part II—Heartsick**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Kaylee ponders the state of her union, and has a talk with Simon.

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When Kaywinnet Lee Frye was a little girl growing up on Harvest, she dreamed of sailing away into the Black, a princess with her personal Prince Charming. While her gifted hands tinkered with repairs in her father's shop, her mind spun tales of exotic destinations and romantic intrigues with muscle-bound young men who all loved her madly.

But as she grew older, she realized her chances of leaving Harvest for adventure in the Black were slim at best. Though she loved her family and home, the young men of her acquaintance were farmers, mechanics, or some such. They held no mystery for her, and she began to think that she would be forever consigned to working in her father's shop, marrying some simple man, and raising a brood of little ones.

And then Serenity had landed on the dock, and its swai mechanic, Bester, had come to her father's shop looking for a replacement part for the ship. He hadn't even known the name of the thing he sought, and Kaylee had happily agreed to accompany him back to the ship to take a look for herself. Bester was different from the boys on Harvest, and Kaylee, hungry for excitement, found herself soon enough diverted from peering into Serenity's workings and engaged in examining Bester's workings instead.

There, lying under the engine with Bester busily engaged on top of her, she heard for the first time the voice of the man that would change her life irrevocably, Captain Malcolm Reynolds.

Before she'd had time to really contemplate anything, the Captain had made her an offer she could not refuse. His simple "Wanna?" had touched the adventurous spark in her soul and ignited it to a full burn quicker than she could spit.

And she never regretted the decision, though the first few weeks on Serenity did make her a little homesick. The Captain had seen to it that she was treated well, and had made sure she felt like family right away. For a very short while, she had been tempted to use her considerable charms to seduce him. He did, after all, have those good looks and just enough of an air of danger about him to be all manner of appealing to her youthful sensibilities. But he never reacted to her subtle flirtations with anything other than a soft smile, and she soon got over her infatuation, finding it infinitely more comforting to know he viewed her more as a sister than a potential lover.

So, she had been happy and relatively secure on Serenity until she had met Simon Tam. At first awed by his good looks and obvious intelligence, she was thrown a bit off-kilter by his Core-bred manner. But the more she learned about him, and the more she saw of his steadfast devotion to his sister, the harder Kaylee fell for the young doctor.

And now that they had been married for almost two years, her high opinion of her husband had only increased. She loved him more than she would have believed possible. And she knew, with bedrock certainty, that he loved her in the same way. And yet, for all that, she still felt an emptiness that Simon's love alone could not fill.

She watched Zoe, growing brighter every day with the gift of Anya in her life, filling spaces hollowed out by Wash's death. And she watched River, steadier now than she'd been, nurturing Adam with all her considerable compassion and finding true joy in living again. And Kaylee's arms ached to cradle a child of her own. Her capacity for love was limitless, and she yearned to give that love to a little one that she and Simon had made.

But something in Simon had fractured on Athens, and Kaylee did not know how to help him heal. She watched her husband go through every day, caring for everyone on Serenity with the same single-minded devotion he'd always brought to his work. And she saw him play with the children, and laugh and talk with the rest of the crew as if nothing were wrong.

But sometimes she could catch the anguish in his eyes when he was tired, and she had seen, more times than she cared to count, the way his shoulders slumped when he thought he was alone. And he had become, if possible, even more conscientious about contraception when they made love.

Kaylee loved Simon too much to demand what he was unwilling or unable to give, so she had remained silent, hoping that her steady devotion would provide the help he needed. But now, she wondered if that had been the wisest course. Perhaps there were things that needed to be openly discussed, no matter how painful to them both. So, she bolstered her courage and determined to set about reclaiming him from the well of despair he had stumbled into. Thus decided, she sat in their bed, nervously awaiting his arrival.

By the time Simon finally climbed down into their bunk, Kaylee had almost lost her resolve. But seeing the way he stood there trying to smile through whatever turmoil ate at him, she was given the strength to try.

"Hey, bao bei," she said softly. "Missed you today."

Simon padded around the room getting ready for bed. "Yeah, I was re-organizing some of the infirmary supplies. Now that Mal is spending more coin on stocking it well, I wanted to be sure I had everything under control." He paused for a moment. "And I checked in on Adam before I came down."

Kaylee smiled. "I reckon everybody on Serenity did that same thing 'fore turnin' in. Just don't seem like he oughta' be old enough for his own room yet."

"Well, he does seem to be progressing a little faster than the average one-year-old," Simon agreed.

"Must be those genius Tam genes," Kaylee said. "Reckon our little ones will be like that, too?" She looked up at Simon, holding her breath.

Simon stiffened, instantly on guard. "Kaylee," he began. "I'm…well, I'm not sure I want children anymore. I know we talked about it before we got married, and I know I said I did, but…things are different now."

Kaylee struggled to keep her voice steady. 'What things?'

Simon let out a long sigh. Having dreaded this conversation for so long, he was almost relieved that it was finally going to happen. "Ai ren, you know I love you, right?"

Kaylee nodded, the concern on her face piercing his heart.

"Have you considered how dangerous our situation always is?" he asked. "I'm as likely as not to be a fugitive any time now. The Alliance is gearing up for war. You know it's true. And when war is declared, what do you think Mal is going to do? And where will that leave us?"

Kaylee replied, "I s'pose the Cap'n'll do what he thinks is right. And we'll do what we think is right, baby or not."

"How can you think it would be the responsible thing to bring a baby into the 'verse right now?" Simon asked, a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Simon, best as I can tell, there ain't never a perfect time to have a young 'un. But people have 'em all the time, and they love 'em and raise 'em as best they can. And it all works out fine in the end, most times."

"I wish I had your optimism," Simon said wryly.

"I wish you did, too," Kaylee replied. "'Cause we'd make one beautiful baby, Simon Tam. And you'd be a wonderful father."

Simon blanched at the compliment, and Kaylee knew she had finally hit upon the underlying reason for his reluctance. "You would, Simon," she asserted. "I got no cause to doubt it."

Simon looked at her with tortured eyes. "I have cause," he said, almost whispering. He sat down heavily on the edge of their bed, his back bowed. Covering his face with both hands, he said, "You want the truth, Kaylee?"

She slid down the bed to sit beside him. "Always," she answered gently.

"The truth is that I don't know who I am anymore," Simon said sadly. "All my life, I wanted just two things—to protect my sister and to be a good doctor."

"But you do both of those things everyday," Kaylee pointed out.

Simon shook his head. "Not really. River has Mal now, and Adam. She doesn't need me to protect her anymore. And as for being a doctor, well, I stopped being a doctor when I chose to kill those four people on Athens." His voice broke on the last words, and his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

Kaylee hugged him tightly to her. "Honey, you know what we had to do there was a bit of mercy to them people."

"Kaylee, you don't understand. I'm a doctor. I took an oath to do no harm, and whether it was merciful or not, I broke an oath that was sacred to me. What kind of man does that? What kind of father could I be to a child?" Tears ran down his cheeks unheeded as he looked at his wife. "I'm not like the Captain, Kaylee. I can't make my peace with this. I can't kill a man in the morning and bounce a baby on my knee in the afternoon. I just don't have it in me."

Kaylee regarded him carefully for a moment, willing him to think about what she was about to say. "Cap'n don't kill nobody lightly, Simon. And he's had to live on the edge longer than us. He's learned a thing or two about what's gotta be done to survive, and I reckon he's made his peace with it right enough. But that's his job, being Captain. In the Black…it ain't exactly all easy-like to figure what's right and wrong, but I know he does what he thinks is right. And more important, I know you do what you think is right, too. You're a good man, Simon, and you'd best be remembering I wouldn't be lovin' a murderer."

Simon smiled weakly, dismissing her praise. "You see the good in everybody, Kaylee."

"Simon, ain't doctors to be compassionate and such? How would it have helped those people on Athens to lie there and suffer like they were? What kinda' man woulda' left 'em to die like that? If'n they coulda' strung words together, they'da' been begging you to end them. You know it's true." She paused to reign in her emotions. "And the fact that you'd help 'em like that even when it tore out your heart to do it means that you're exactly the kind of man should be a father to my little ones. Dong ma?"

Simon's heart was slightly eased by the force of Kaylee's love. "I'll have to think about what you've said, ai ren. You know I want to give you anything in the 'verse you want, but I can't agree to have a child right now. I'm asking you to wait for me to…pull myself together before we take that kind of step."

Kaylee gave him a long, sober look. "Long's you're willin' to at least think on it, I'm willin' to wait." She paused for a beat, and then smiled. "If you don't take too long to do your thinkin', that is."

Simon couldn't help but return her infectious smile. "And if I do take too long?"

Kaylee raised one eyebrow, her green eyes mischievous. "Well, then I reckon I'll have to find someone who wouldn't mind makin' a child with me." She paused, giving Simon a mock frown. "But then, the kid would miss out on them genius Tam genes and all."

Simon chuckled despite himself, wiping the dampness form his cheeks. "Wouldn't want to miss out on those," he murmured, matching her teasing tone. Pulling her closer, he kissed her softly. "I'm sorry. I do love you, Kaylee Tam. And I truly will think about it, if that's what you really want."

Kaylee moved easily into his embrace, heartened to hear his tender assertions. "I love you too, Simon," she said, feeling as if a burden had been lifted off her chest just enough to give her room to breathe.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Revolution**

**Part III—History Lessons**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Chau receives an afternoon visitor, and Anya has a talk with Captain Mal.

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Andrew Chau sat in his drawing room, absent-mindedly kneading his right arm in the spot where it had been broken by the Captain of Serenity and his hired thug. Chau shivered slightly, thinking that the whore had not been worth the months of recuperation he'd had to endure with both arms useless at his sides. He had at least hoped to garner favor with Atherton Wing, but Wing had disappeared completely a couple of days after he'd delivered the unconscious Companion to him, and Chau was fairly certain that same people who'd wounded him so grievously had something to do with Wing's disappearance as well. Thinking darkly of the revenge he would like to exact should the opportunity ever present itself, he was startled when Cerril, his manservant, appeared quietly at his side.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, sir," Cerril said, bowing his head. "But Mr. Thompson has arrived. Shall I show him in?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Chau said. "He is never to be kept waiting." The servant bowed at the waist, turning to leave. "And send in a tray of refreshments for our guest. I believe he prefers coffee to tea."

"Yes sir. Very good, sir."

Chau licked his dry lips nervously. He had come to realize that Jared Thompson was a very dangerous man. While maintaining a public persona of the consummate gentleman, Thompson was ruthless in business, and Chau was beginning to suspect, quite bloodthirsty in his private dealings as well. Chau himself understood well enough the advantage of leading such a double life, but he realized that his own vices paled in comparison to those of his guest.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Thompson," he said obsequiously, rising from his chair by the fire to greet the man.

"Good afternoon," Thompson replied. "And please call me Jared. I would say we know each other will enough by now to be on a first-name basis, wouldn't you, Andrew?"

"Of course," Chau replied. "Won't you have a seat?"

Thompson moved with catlike grace to the other chair beside the large fireplace and sat down easily, sighing with contentment at the warmth. "It's such a nasty day out. I'm most appreciative of the fire."

"Yes," Chau agreed. "Bone chilling, with the rain. Causes my joints to ache. Old injuries, you know."

The two men sat for a time making idle chit chat, but Chau could not escape the feeling that Thompson was merely waiting, toying with him like a cat with a hapless mouse. Finally, genteelly sipping his second cup of coffee, Thompson came to the point of his visit.

"I had occasion to dine with Senator Landry again last evening," he began.

"Did everything go as you had hoped?" Chau asked curiously.

"No, the Senator remains singularly opposed to our little proposal. Quite a pity, really, as he is one of the few members of Parliament still widely respected, even on the Rim worlds. He would have been an excellent spokesman for our cause."

Chau involuntarily shuddered at Thompson's use of the past tense in referring to the Senator. "What are you going to do?"

Thompson smiled coldly. "As always, whatever I have to do to ensure my success."

Chau swallowed thickly. "Is there nothing that will convince him to cooperate?"

Thompson's smile disappeared. "Obviously not, or he would be here with me now, wouldn't he?"

Uneasy with the sudden air of tension in the room, Chau asked, "What is it you want me to do, then?"

"It occurs to me that perhaps you should consider a career in politics," Thompson answered evenly.

"M—m—me?" Chau stammered.

Thompson laughed softly, the sound sending chills down Chau's spine. "Forgive me, Andrew, I couldn't resist," he said. "You just seem so…tense."

"Not at all," Chau answered, flustered. He was really beginning to abhor this man.

"Actually, I suppose I will have to be the spokesman for our cause." Seeing Chau visibly relax, he added, "I was hoping that I could persuade you to be my…second, so to speak."

Though dismayed, Chau could hardly decline, given the circumstances. "I'm really not quite sure how I can be of assistance to you," he said. "But, of course, I'm glad to do whatever you think would be most helpful."

"Good," Thompson said, abruptly standing up to take his leave. Now that his goal had been achieved, he was ready to be done with the banalities of his host. "I'll be in touch, as soon as you're needed." Without a backward glance, he left the room.

Chau remained seated, listening to the sound of Thompson's steps as he left and wondering with a faint heart exactly what the man would ask of him as their plans came closer to fruition.

XXXXXXXXXX

Anya bent over the star charts, listening to her history lesson and following the path of Mal's finger intently. "So all the worlds spinning were in the War for Independence, Captain Mal?"

"No, not directly. Though most of the worlds sent troops to fight, not all worlds turned into battlefields. Most of the Core worlds here," he pointed out with a broad sweep of his hand, "were protected by Alliance air troops, though occasionally the Independent Army would break through their defenses."

"What about all these worlds?" Anya asked, pointing to a large concentration of Rim worlds on the chart.

"There was fighting on most of those worlds," Mal said quietly, trying not to think too carefully about how many of those battles he had personally witnessed.

Anya pondered the charts for a moment. "Why did so many people decide to fight, Captain Mal?"

Mal sighed. "A lot of folks don't much like the idea of being told by someone half-way across the 'verse how they are to govern their own world. People who felt that way decided to fight for their right to make their own decisions on their own worlds. They were called Independents. Other folks thought that all the worlds should be alike, and they supported an idea called Unification."

"What did 'unification' mean?" Anya asked.

"It meant that all the worlds would be united under the rule of the Alliance," Mal answered. "And all the worlds would have to answer to the Alliance."

"My first Mama said my Daddy fought for the Independents," Anya said. "Did you fight in the war, Captain Mal?"

"I surely did," Mal answered. "Fought with your mama, in fact."

Anya's eyes grew wide. "Mama fought in the war?"

"Yes."

Anya considered that revelation. "Did you fight for the Independents or the Alliance?" she asked.

Mal smiled. "Take a guess."

"Independents," Anya stated with sudden certainty. "'Cause they all wore brown coats, and you and Mama both have brown coats too."

"That's a fact," Mal answered, ruffling her hair.

"Anya's expression turned serious. "Do you think there will be another war, Captain Mal?"

"What makes you ask that, blondie?"

Anya blushed, caught in her misbehavior. "I heard you and Miss River talkin' 'bout it the other day."

"I see," Mal answered evenly.

"I'm sorry, Captain Mal. I didn't mean to listen in exactly," Anya began.

Mal interrupted her. "It's a small boat. It's bound to happen sometimes. Just don't make a habit of it, dong ma?"

"Yes, sir," Anya answered.

Mal looked into her earnest blue eyes. "Back to the question. I think there might be another war sometime. Folks don't quite seem to learn all we should from history and such. When people feel like they've got no control over their lives, or feel like the folks who make decisions are not doing a good job, they tend to start with the fightin'."

"My first Mama said the war kilt my Daddy even though he was still walking about," Anya said soberly. "Said it weren't worth what he lost to fight like he did."

Mal swallowed the lump that rose in his throat, picturing all the young men and women who had come to their end one way or another on both sides. "Well, it ain't somethin' you'd wanna go into without thinkin' on it long and hard," he said as gently as he could. "War is an ugly business, no matter what it is you're fightin' for. And it hurts a lot of people, good and bad, on both sides."

"Doesn't sound too smart to me," Anya observed, with all the conviction of a seven-year-old.

Mal snorted. "Maybehaps not," he said. "But sometimes it seems like the right thing to do."

Anya regarded him seriously. "Do you think it's the right thing to do now, Captain Mal?" she asked, worry creeping into her tone.

"Ain't rightly sure just yet," Mal answered honestly.

Anya flung herself into Mal's arms, almost upending the chair in the process. "If you ain't sure, let me decide," she said earnestly. "I don't want ya' to go, Captain Mal. Don't want ya' to end up like my Daddy."

Mal blinked slowly, his troubled blue eyes meeting her matching ones. "I'll keep that in mind, little one," he answered softly.

XXXXXXXXXX

River sang a soft lullaby to Adam, tucking him safely into his little bed and brushing the unruly hair, so much like his father's, away from his forehead. He yawned mightily, and his eyelids fluttered shut in the blissful sleep of the very young. River, gave in, just for a moment, to the temptation to read her child's thoughts. Barely skimming the surface of his consciousness, she smiled. Adam was happy and secure, sure of the love of his parents and Serenity's family. River retreated carefully. She wished with all her soul that Adam would always be so steady, so rooted in the emotional stability that he assumed as a natural right, but which she knew was a rare gift.

Turning to go, she saw Mal standing in the doorway, the tender look in his eyes almost enough to bring tears to her own. He leaned down to kiss his son gently, and linked his arm with River's to leave. "You ready to turn in, darlin'?" he whispered.

River nodded. "You?" she asked.

"Just gonna take one more turn around the ship, and I'll be there," he said, turning toward the cargo bay as River headed to their bunk.

Thinking about River lying in their bed awaiting his arrival, Mal made it around the ship in record time, and stuck his head into the doorway of the bridge.

"Everything all right in here?" he asked Zoe, expecting her standard "Yes, sir."

"Not sure, sir," came her reply. "Think this is something you may want to see."

She vacated the pilot's chair and, turning to Mal, pointed silently to the images scrolling across the cortex screen.

XXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Revolution**

**Part IV—Conspiracy Theory**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal gets disturbing news from several fronts.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal sank heavily into the pilot's chair, momentarily mesmerized by the news on the cortex screen.

"Think it's true, sir?" Zoe asked, as the report began to repeat for the second time with no response from Mal.

"Which part?" Mal asked hollowly.

Zoe raised one eyebrow. "I'm assumin' Senator Landry is really dead, sir. But the part about who did it…not so sure about that."

"Doesn't seem to make much sense, does it?" Mal replied. "Wasn't Landry one of the few Senators who called for amnesty for the Independent POWs at the end of the war?"

"I believe so, sir," Zoe said. "Think he also presided over the hearings to remove the members of Parliament who tried to cover up what happened on Miranda. Well-respected among the Rim worlds, too. Can't see why he'd be a target for the 'leaders of a new Independent Army'. D'ya suppose there even is such a thing?"

"Ain't rightly sure," Mal answered. "But if there is, I can't quite wrap my head around why they'd target Landry instead of some of the other members of Parliament. He seemed to lean toward the cause of the Independents. More like to have been killed by Alliance sympathizers, I conjure. Maybehaps it's just being reported this way to get both sides itchin' for a fight. Alliance is like to use it to come down hard on any resistance as may be out there."

"And come down hard on folk like us," Zoe observed dryly.

Mal nodded soberly. "Most like."

Zoe leaned one hip against the console, arms folded tightly across her chest. "War comes, sir, I ain't altogether sure I got it in me to fight in a trench somewhere. You?"

"I'm thinkin' we've done enough of that kinda' fightin' to last us three days past eternity," Mal answered soberly. "And I got no notion to leave this crew whilst I go off on a fool's errand. Can't see as how there'll be a place in the 'verse safe enough to leave River and Adam and Anya."

"Nor can I, sir," Zoe replied, relief apparent in her voice.

They regarded each other soberly, both aware that if war did come and one of them chose to fight, the other would be hard pressed to refrain from joining up. Too many years of steadfast loyalty bound them together for such a choice to come easily, regardless of how much they loved the other people in their lives.

"I'm thinkin' we'd best be takin' all the jobs we can find right now, and savin' some coin. If there is a new Independent Army organizing somewhere, it won't be long before the go se hits the fan. Ports'll close on most worlds and fuel'll get scarce gorram quick. We'll need to be dirtside somewhere to wait it out, I conjure."

Zoe nodded her agreement. "Where you figure we'd be less likely to end up corpsified?"

"Apt to be less fightin' on a Core world," Mal observed. "But that ain't exactly conducive to our long-term health with River and Simon like to be fugitives again."

"And you, as well," Zoe replied. "You ARE technically a prison escapee."

Mal grimaced. "Thanks for the reminder."

"Not a problem, sir," Zoe said calmly.

River drifted onto the bridge. "Everything all right, ai ren?" she asked.

Mal rose, relinquishing the chair to Zoe. "Everything's fine, bao bei. Just having a little palaver with Zoe." Turning to Zoe, he said, "Night, then. Call me if need be."

"Always do, sir," Zoe replied easily, slipping gracefully into the chair.

XXXXXXXXXX

"We got problems, Mal," Monty said, his face unusually haggard on the screen. "Ordinary trade routes getting to be littered with new Alliance checkpoints. They're gearing up, Mal. Net's bein' cast, if you get my meanin'."

Mal nodded. "I know, Monty. Have you seen all the new transport jobs posted running supplies to the outlying worlds with Alliance garrisons?"

"I seen 'em," Monty replied grimly. "But gorram it if I wouldn't rather starve than aid and abet the bungers."

"You plannin' to fight if it comes to that?" Mal asked.

"Reckon so," Monty said slowly. "I ain't like you, Mal. Got no family to worry on, and a ship full of young men who are bustin' for a fight."

"Well, if it happens, I wish you well, Monty. I'll do what I can to help you."

"I know you will, Mal. Hope to all nine hells it don't come to that."

"Me too," Mal agreed. "And thanks for the heads-up about the new checkpoints."

"Anytime," Monty said, cutting the transmission.

Mal sat staring at the blank screen, his mind heavy with the options facing him. The crew had effectively put their lives in his hands, all of them expressing relief that he and Zoe had no intention to be drawn into a second war. But, he was having no small amount of trouble figuring out how to provide a safe haven for them all.

Inara had suggested one of the Training Houses as a potential place for them, but she and Mal both knew that such an arrangement would be precarious at best should real hostilities break out. The Guild would, of course, back the Alliance, being both politically and financially astute. They might perhaps harbor Inara, but Mal had no illusions that they would lift one delicate finger to help the rest of Serenity's crew. Inara could not in good conscience disagree, and would not leave the rest of the crew to their mercy.

Obviously, Simon and River had no place to go, and Kaylee was not apt to leave her husband for any reason in the 'verse. Jayne would blend in anywhere with minimal effort, but Mal was reassured when he expressed his plan to stay with the crew, though Inara's presence might account for that choice at least partially. Made a man proud to have such folk around him, Mal thought, not for the first time.

While he was occupied with such musings, another wave came through. Thinking dryly that the current situation seemed to be making him popular with the unprecedented occurrence of two waves in one day, he answered it. The Operative looked at him steadily.

Without preamble, the Operative began. "Captain Reynolds, is Mrs. Reynolds still with you?"

Amusement in his tone, Mal answered, "Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but I haven't managed to drive her away just yet."

There was, however, no amusement in the tone of the Operative. "I am pleased to hear it, Captain. I was afraid I may have been too late."

Noting the seriousness of his demeanor, Mal sat up straighter. "Too late for what? What's happened?"

"I assume you've heard about the death of Senator Landry?"

"I have," Mal answered. "You have anything to do with that?"

The Operative looked unaccustomedly startled. "Of course not. Landry was most sympathetic to certain of my own aims. To have him assassinated would have been foolhardy at best. And I am certain that no one associated with the underground movement was involved."

"Good to know," Mal said. "What does Senator Landry's death have to do with River?'

"Nothing directly," the Operative answered. "But several unanticipated things have all happened in a short span of time. They may all be coincidences, but…"

"You don't believe in coincidences," Mal finished.

"Exactly so," the Operative acknowledged. "One of the staff here, a young woman with low-level access, was found murdered on the docks of Osiris last week. Looked like a routine assault, but I have a strange feeling about it. Then, two leaders of the movement disappeared within a day of each other. We've heard nothing from them since. And yesterday, the three Academy students who had joined forces with us to destroy the genetic material on the moon where you were incarcerated disappeared as well."

"And you believe River may be in danger?" Mal asked tightly.

"I would assume that anyone who knew of the existence of those three students would also know about your wife. It stands to reason that she might be a potential target."

"Any idea as to who in particular we should be looking out for?'

"Regrettably, none," the Operative answered. "If my sources are to be believed, the Alliance had nothing to do with the disappearances. And obviously, the growing Independent faction would have no interest in hampering the work of the Underground Movement in any way. There is someone or something else at work here."

"So there is an Independent faction that is being at least organized at this point?" Mal asked.

"Yes, but unlike the wild reports in the media, there is no 'new Independent Army' as yet. There are disgruntled people on every world spinning, but they are in need of good, solid leadership to become a real force. The Underground Movement has good leaders, two of whom are now missing, but they are not soldiers. They are ordinary citizens who have the desire for freedom from the Alliance, but no clue as to how to go about achieving it."

"Yeah, sounds like a scenario I've seem play out before," Mal said dryly.

"A man such as yourself would be an invaluable asset to such a group," the Operative said delicately.

"Not interested in the job," Mal replied flatly.

"Have your ideals changed so thoroughly?" the Operative asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"My ideals haven't changed one whit. But my priorities have," Mal answered evenly, refusing to be baited.

"I understand," the Operative said, inclining his head. "But what if I could offer safety for your family and crew in exchange for your services? Would that satisfy your priorities and your ideals?"

"Well, it could be a mite tempting if you could promise such as that," Mal replied. "But being as how five people under your care have recently disappeared and one has died, I ain't all that inclined to put much confidence in your promise."

"Touche', Captain. It is apparently clear that I could not provide protection on Osiris. But your presence would not be required here anyway. And just to make my proposal plain, let me explain again exactly what I'm asking of you. I understand that you have no wish to lead an army, but I would ask that you help me to organize one. I need a military advisor, someone to train the men, help me pick the ones with leadership ability, organize the acquisition of supplies…"

"That all?" Mal asked sarcastically.

"By no means," the Operative replied calmly. "There are a multitude of other tasks awaiting someone with your particular skills." He paused. "But I am not asking you to lead the troops into battle, or even fight at all. Your job would simply be to prepare them for the reality of war, a set of circumstances with which you are more than familiar. When the war actually begins, your job would effectively be over."

"Why do I think things wouldn't be as simple as all that?" Mal asked.

The Operative smiled. "Because they rarely are." He hesitated briefly, trying to accurately gauge Mal's reaction.

"At least meet with me personally to discuss the possibilities," he suggested. "Then talk it over with your wife and crew. Unless things escalate much more quickly than I anticipate, you still have time to decide once you hear me out. Please, Captain Reynolds, let us talk together face-to-face. I'd relish such an opportunity again."

Mal smiled briefly. "Miss me, huh?" Turning serious, he added, "Send the coordinates. But make it somewhere you're fair sure of. Ain't risking my folk if I don't have to."

"Of course," the Operative replied. "Stand by for the coordinates."

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

**Revolution**

**Part V—Plans and Schemes**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal outlines a plan for the crew, and Chau and Thompson discuss plans of their own.

XXXXXXXXXX

"He wants us to go to Athens?" Kaylee asked, her eyes wide with dismayed surprise.

Mal sighed. "I know it ain't a place you and the doc wanted to go back to."

"You have a wonderful grasp of the obvious, Captain," Simon said snidely, his face blanched white at the notion of returning there.

Mal chose to ignore the interruption. Looking around the galley table at the rest of the crew, he began again. "Athens was chosen because the Alliance has basically written it off. Their resources are being funneled to worlds where they have troops and supporters. When Reavers wiped out the Athens settlement, re-populating the planet was a low priority. They'll get around to it eventually, but not until after the current situation is resolved. So, the folks as plan to fight as Independents are there now, making use of the buildings and such instead of having to start from scratch elsewhere."

"What about the four moons of Athens?" Simon asked. "Isn't there an Alliance presence on any of them?"

"Not now," Mal answered. "Remember, one of them was already a black rock. The one where Serenity was stranded got hit by Reavers just like Athens. The third one has a very small settlement, not enough for the Alliance to bother with. And of course, Whitefall isn't exactly overly bothered with 'em either. All in all, Athens is a fair smart choice for flying under the radar, so to speak."

"And he's offering protection for those as ain't plannin' to fight and the two little ones in exchange for what?" Jayne asked, still not overly inclined to trust the Operative despite recent events.

"Them as want to can help train the green recruits, teach 'em how to avoid getting killed in the first firefight. Them as don't want to can just lay low 'til we see how this thing is gonna play out," Mal answered.

"And if'n we learn 'em how to fight, they ain't gonna be expectin' us to lead 'em into battle?" Jayne asked.

"Not unless you got a compelling need to go," Mal answered. "Strictly advisors, you might say. And in the meantime, Athens would be a safe haven for the crew." Turning to the rest of the crew, he added, "Now's the time to say what you're gonna do. Anybody got any better suggestions as to how to make it through this mess, speak up now. I'm ready to hear 'em."

Everyone sat silent, each thinking of any other solution. After a moment, Simon looked at Kaylee, who nodded slightly. "We're in," he said, gripping her hand like a vise.

"I'll go," Inara said softly.

"Can't see anything else with any better chance of not going pear-shaped, I guess," Jayne admitted.

Mal looked at Zoe, who returned his gaze steadily. "Might work," she said.

"Statistically speaking, the option has an acceptable possibility of success," River added.

Realizing that as the closest to a ringing endorsement he was likely to get, Mal said, "All right then. River, set the course."

XXXXXXXXXX

Andrew Chau attended the memorial service for Senator Landry, observing Jared Thompson conspicuously mourning a short distance away. Idly wondering if Thompson himself had committed the murder or if one of his hired men had done it instead, Chau repressed the urge to smile at the man's acting ability. It would not do to be caught by one of the press cameras smiling at such a solemn event. Composing his features into the appropriate expression, Chau turned back to survey the rest of the room. If there was such a thing as a New Independent Army, he thought, amused, this hall would be a wonderful target for a terrorist attack. Every power broker in Parliament, several heads of industry and finance, and every reputable news organization were represented. A strike here would have enormous ramifications. But Chau was confident he was perfectly safe from such an action. Any small Independent movement had to be in a state of disorganization at this point. He knew the 'army' was nothing more than a clever device of Thompson to escalate tensions and set the stage for their own goals.

Meeting with Thompson in his opulent offices later in the day, Chau sank back into one of the high-backed chairs with a glass of well-aged wine in his hand. "How far do you intend this war business to go before you intervene publicly?" he asked, his curiosity momentarily overwhelming his fear of the man before him.

Thompson sighed, bored with having to explain again the broad outline of his plan. "It really does not matter one way or another whether they actually manage to have a war. On the one hand, a full-blown war would doubtless defeat the Independents completely, and deplete the resources of the Alliance satisfactorily. Then, we could emerge as the voice of reason, the calm in the midst of chaos, trying to unite the victors and the vanquished. I'm rather fond of that scenario."

"Yes, it would play well on the cortex," Chau answered dryly.

"But I may not have time for such niceties," Thompson said. "Who can tell how long it will take the rag-tag rebels to organize a real army? I think the illusion of that will serve almost as well."

"And how will you accomplish that?" Chau asked.

"With your help of course." Thompson smiled chillingly.

Chau swallowed convulsively. "What do you need?"

"Clear out your personnel from your laboratories in the city. I have need of them."

"That may take some time. There is quite a bit of research going on at the moment of a fairly sensitive nature."

"Scrap it," Thompson said abruptly. "I have nowhere else to do what needs to be done. I have equipment and scientists waiting for a state-of-the-art lab in which to work."

"What are you going to do in the lab?" Chau asked, annoyed at Thompson's high-handed manner.

Thompson stared at him coldly. "You really want to know?"

Chau was suddenly certain that he did not. Gulping, he answered, "I'll have the labs empty tomorrow."

"That will be just fine," Thompson said, suddenly much more magnanimous. "Now, on to other matters. Since you've been so generous with your financial support and now the use of your laboratories, I thought there might be something I could do for you in return. It has come to my attention that you bear ill-will toward a certain Captain Reynolds."

"What of it?" Chau asked warily.

"It has occurred to me that perhaps you could have your revenge at the same time that I achieve certain of my goals as well."

"How so?" Chau was intrigued.

"Suppose that Reynolds was arrested for the murder of Senator Landry? It would be no stretch of the imagination to believe him to be an Independent sympathizer, and he's already been incarcerated once for terrorist activities. It's no secret he was responsible for the Miranda Wave as well. It's completely believable that he would be capable of murdering a Senator to destabilize the regime. A well-placed word would be all that's needed to have him charged with the crime."

"I'd like nothing better than to see him imprisoned and executed," Chau admitted. "But I don't see how that would help your cause."

"Think about it," Thompson said. "For such a public murder, the Alliance would be forced to try him in a public forum. In the hands of a skillful advocate, think of the things to which such a man could testify, the atrocities he's seen, the animosity he must harbor against the government. And events could be maneuvered so that his testimony could not be suppressed. We can use him to discredit what's left of the Alliance, and the court to convince the public that he is part of an Independent conspiracy to undermine the current regime."

"And then you step in as the leader of a new political party, the shining light of all that's pure and just in the 'verse," Chau said, seeing the beauty of the plan.

"Precisely," Thompson said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied air.

"How will you frame Reynolds for the crime?"

"Not to worry," Thompson said. "Leave that part to me."

XXXXXXXXXX

"You really gonna be okay with goin' back to Athens, baby?" Kaylee asked worriedly.

"I don't imagine the Captain would have suggested it if he thought it would be unsafe," Simon said stiffly.

"That ain't what I meant, honey, and you know it," Kaylee replied, unwilling to let this particular topic go.

Simon sighed. "I know what you meant, ai ren. And I really don't know the answer. But I don't see a more valid option to take. We haven't the coin or fuel to just sail away into the Black for God know how long while another war engulfs the 'verse. And even if we did, I can't imagine that would be the safer course with the Alliance breathing down our backs all the time. In any case, Athens is where we're headed, and I'll just have to deal with it."

Kaylee smiled encouragingly, controlling her own memories of the horrors they'd experienced there. "It'll probably look a lot different now there's folks there again," she said hopefully.

"Of course," Simon said, grateful to her for the attempt at optimism. "And with the conditions being as they are sure to be, the young men and women there may be in need of a doctor, particularly if Jayne is doing any of the weapons training." He rolled his eyes.

Kaylee laughed, pleased inordinately by Simon's attempt at humor. "Folks have been known to get injured 'round the Cap'n too," she added wickedly.

"So I've noticed," Simon agreed. Toppling her over onto their bed, he kissed her laughing lips, effectively ending the conversation in favor of something much more pleasant to his troubled heart.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Think your brother will be alright with facin' his demons on Athens?" Mal asked, trailing his fingers lazily along River's bare back.

River did not answer right away, and Mal knew she was eavesdropping in Simon's psyche by her look of concentration. Suddenly, she grinned. "Will be okay. Kaylee's making him forget about all of that right now."

Mal frowned in mock seriousness. "Well, that was more information than I needed," he said, looking down into River's twinkling eyes.

"Would you like to know what Jayne and Inara are doing?" River asked innocently, her smile mischievous.

Mal shuddered. "No, I'm fair certain I would not," he replied, chuckling. "Don't know how you can sleep at all, seeing what you must see."

River slid one slender hand down Mal's abdomen. "Wasn't thinking of sleeping just yet, ai ren," she said, her lips brushing along the ridge of his collarbone.

"That a fact?" Mal murmured, his hands slipping down River's body as she draped herself sensuously across the lean, muscled length of him. "You tryin' to distract me from facin' my demons, too?" he whispered against her ear.

"Is it working?" she answered, flicking her tongue across the scar on his ear.

"Um humh," he breathed, losing himself in the silky slide of her skin against his, and the sweet taste of her on his tongue.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

**Revolution**

**Part VI—Back to Work**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Serenity's crew settles in on Athens, and Thompson goes to work in the lab.

XXXXXXXXXX

River set Serenity down several miles away from the Athens settlement in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Mal had little desire to make a grand entrance in the small training camp, and even less to make the whereabouts of his ship public knowledge. True to the Operative's word, there were horses enough for the crew so that no one had to walk the distance to town. Anya eagerly climbed up on Zoe's mount, and Adam fairly bounced in River's arms after his first real look at a horse.

Arriving at the settlement, Mal was somewhat discouraged to see that no one was guarding the perimeter of the encampment. Making a mental note to remedy that situation as soon as possible, Mal asked directions of a fresh-faced young man, who led them to the small storefront where the Operative had set up a temporary headquarters of sorts.

His face registering genuine pleasure, the Operative greeted Serenity's crew with enthusiasm. Coming to River, he looked with something akin to wonder at the child in her arms. Adam, as if sensing the drama of the moment, regarded the Operative soberly. Uncomfortable in the sudden silence, Mal took Adam in his arms and spoke. "This is Adam, my son."

The Operative shook his head, as if abruptly released from his thoughts. "Of course," he acknowledged. "He is a fine-looking little boy." Moving out into the sunlight, he continued, "I was unsure whether you would prefer to stay on the ship or in the settlement, so a house has been prepared for you. Come this way."

Walking along the busy street, Mal could feel the curious stares of the crowd milling about. He supposed they did make a rather unusual sight, with a registered Companion arm-in-arm with a mercenary, an obvious warrior woman holding the hand of a seven-year-old girl, a Core-bred doctor escorting a woman with a speck of engine grease on her cheek, and an ex-soldier with a baby on his hip and a young slip of a girl on his arm. He smiled at the thought.

On the edge of the settlement, they came to a large two-story house sitting slightly apart from the nearest neighbor. It was quickly decided that the house would do very nicely, as its kitchen was well-stocked and there was a barn in the back to house their newly-acquired horses. The three bedrooms on the second floor would accommodate the needs of the Tams, Jayne, and Inara, and the Reynolds family and Zoe would occupy the bedrooms at the back of the first floor. Apparently built for a rather large family originally, the house was ideally suited to their particular needs.

"I'll leave you to get settled in," the Operative said. "Tomorrow will be time enough to get started with the men."

"You're sure I'm goin' to agree to take the job, are you?" Mal asked.

"Positive," the Operative replied easily. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the way you were already assessing the people you passed on the street? Or the way you were looking at the lack of perimeter defense for the settlement? This is the kind of thing you were born for, Captain. How long can a man deny his true nature?"

Mal smiled wryly. "You might be surprised," he said lightly.

"With you, Captain Reynolds, I have no doubt that I will," the Operative said blandly. "Until tomorrow then." He bowed slightly, and left Mal standing on the porch, pondering the work to be done.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal awoke to the tantalizing smell of something like bacon wafting from the front of the house. Mouth watering, he dressed quickly and headed to the kitchen, where the rest of the crew was also gathering in short order. Kaylee smiled sunnily. "Mornin', Cap'n," she said cheerfully. "Think this might be real bacon I'm fryin'. Ain' that just all kinds of shiny?"

"Sure is, mei mei. It'll be a real treat," Mal replied, rummaging around to find plates and utensils for the table. The Operative surely knew how to sweeten the pot, he thought wryly. "Do I smell real coffee too?"

"Yup," she said. "Found a big tin of it back of the cupboard."

Jayne appeared, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Neighbor came by this mornin' with a pail of milk fresh from the cow. Looks to be a right good place you found for us, Mal."

Surprised at the sentiment for a moment, Mal could only stare. Recovering, he said, "Well, thank you, Jayne. Glad you like it so far."

"Sure," Jayne replied. "What's not to like? Bed's comfortable, food's good, and far as I know, ain't nobody lookin' to kill us this mornin'."

"That does make it an improvement over some mornings," Mal said. "You plannin' on comin' with me and Zoe this morning?"

"Figure I may as well be doin' something, long's we're here," Jayne answered, pulling a chair up to the table as Kaylee set down the platters of food with a flourish. Silence descended upon the table, as they all savored the unusual bounty set before them. There were some advantages to living dirtside, Mal thought briefly as he looked around the table at his family.

XXXXXXXXXX

By mid-afternoon, Mal was not so sure about staying dirtside. Having surveyed the meager munitions stockpile, and discovered that there were scarcely two thousand men and women on Athens to organize into the beginnings of an army, Mal knew he would be fighting, at best, an uphill battle.

"There are other camps, scattered on several worlds, where troops are gathering," the Operative offered. "But they are waiting for orders. These people were selected because they had, in my opinion, the potential to be officers. Once you're comfortable with their organizational abilities, they will be sent out to the other camps. Eventually, I envision this place as a base for operations for most of the Rim worlds. What do you think?"

Mal looked at him skeptically. "I think you may be a mite too optimistic. I was never more than a sergeant my own self, and now you're expectin' me to run an Officer's Training School?"

The Operative smiled calmly. "We both know what you did in Serenity Valley, regardless of your official rank. And we both know you have the desired skills for the job. Let us not play, Captain Raynolds."

Mal grimaced. "I ain't altogether sure we agree about the 'desired skills', but I'll do what I can, long's I'm here. First, I need to meet the ones you think are the best of the lot."

"Of course," the Operative agreed. "I'll have them assembled immediately."

Mal nodded, slipping shockingly easily back into command mode as he turned back to the desk where he was working on plans to construct a defensive perimeter as his first project. "By the way, approximately how many volunteers are there in all these other camps?" he called out to the Operative's back.

"Forty thousand…and growing," the Operative answered from the doorway. "Hence the urgent need."

"Huh," was Mal's only reply.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I trust you found the laboratories up to your exacting standards," Andrew Chau said.

Jared Thompson nodded. "Most satisfactory. With minor modifications, my people were able to begin work today, in fact. I am most pleased."

"I'm glad," Chau replied. "I am headed back to Persephone tonight, and wanted to be sure everything was satisfactory before I go."

"All is well," Thompson replied. "I will keep you apprised of any issues that require your attention."

Realizing the statement for the dismissal it was, Chau made a hasty retreat, glad to be away from Thompson's chilling presence.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson stood behind the transparent partition watching his lab technicians at work. He was fascinated by the possibilities of the technology he had recently acquired. Pleased beyond measure that he had been able to lure some of the top scientists in the field of behavioral modification away from BlueSun to work for him, he found that sheltering them from the grasp of their former employers was a small price to pay for the technology they had brought with them.

He had learned of the Academy Project through the cortex news, as had everyone else. But the former BlueSun scientists had given him the additional information he had needed regarding the results of their experimentation. While using gifted Readers as their test subjects had produced interesting results, Thompson was much more interested in the possible applications for use on normal subjects. Most particularly, he wanted to explore the possibility of implanting triggers that could be used to control the actions of a normal test subject. Such a thing, if successful, could bring him almost limitless power. And power was what he craved above all other things.

Eager to please their new benefactor, the scientists rushed to give Thompson an update on the progress of their project. "Both subjects seem to be responding much as we had anticipated," the first scientist reported. "Of course, it is too soon to tell with any degree of accuracy how well they will tolerate the procedure in the long run. Because neither man had any special mental ability, they are not able to absorb the stimuli as quickly as the Academy students. However, as what you require of them is nowhere nearly as complex as what we were trying to accomplish with the Academy Project, we should have no major trouble in satisfying your requirements."

"And you're certain no one will be able to detect the tampering?"

"Even the subjects themselves will have no idea," the scientists assured.

"So, they will behave just as you would expect. They will be able to be released back into their normal little lives, with none the wiser."

"Yes sir. Unless…"

"Unless what?' Thompson snapped, in no mood for bad news.

"There is a minute possibility, remote really, that a gifted reader might be able to sense something different, though perhaps only on a subliminal level."

Thompson considered that possibility for a moment. "As far as I am aware, these men would only be exposed to the presence of the three Academy students who have already disappeared."

"Then there should be no problem."

"How soon can I expect to be able to return these illustrious leaders to their little Underground Movement?" Thompson asked.

"If you want to be absolutely certain that they can be triggered as you wish, it would be advisable to let us proceed slowly. Perhaps three to four weeks would be sufficient."

Thompson scowled, unhappy with the cautious timeframe. "Then we'll have to construct some plausible scenario in their minds as to where they've been for a month. And one that will convince all their paranoid little followers," he said, thinking aloud. "No matter. I'll come up with something. Proceed."

"Yes sir," both scientists said in unison, turning back to their merciless task.

XXXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

**Revolution**

**Part VII—Spin**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal gets down to business with war preparations, and Chau gets some disappointing news.

XXXXXXXXXX

"What about air support?' Mal asked, leaning forward over the star charts with the Operative.

"We're gathering ships here…here…and here," he said, indicating the worlds involved.

"Nothing closer in to the Core?" Mal asked.

"Not yet," the Operative sighed.

"Alliance checkpoints are already spreading out to here," Mal said with a broad sweep of his hand. "It's only going to get increasingly difficult to maneuver troops into any kind of strategic position as you go."

"Of that, I am all too aware," the Operative acknowledged.

"Without decent air support, you may as well send all these good folk home to sew Alliance emblems on their underwear," Mal said bitterly. "That's what made the real difference at Dhu Khang and Serenity Valley." He looked out at the group of recruits being currently put through their paces by a fiercely determined Zoe and an equally intimidating Jayne. In the past three weeks, the sorry band of men and women had made remarkable progress. What they lacked in skill, they made up for with raw enthusiasm. But Mal knew all too well what happens to enthusiasm when a man watches his neighbor blown into bits on the losing side of a battle, and feels his stomach empty of the last of the moldy rations he will receive in a muddy trench a thousand light years from his home.

Sighing, he turned back to the table. "Any news from the Underground?"

"None," the Operative replied. "Though I have had word that the troop numbers continue to increase. The men in charge of the other camps are eager for assistance. Are any of those men outside ready to be sent out to train the others?"

"About a hundred of the original group are combat-ready at this point. As for ready to actually train troops, I'd say less than twenty."

The Operative nodded, dismayed at the low number. "Is there nothing we can do to speed up the process?"

Mal looked at him stonily. "No need for ground troops to be ready 'til there's some gorram air support," he said in a low growl.

The Operative returned his stare. "Point taken, Captain," he said. "I'll work on air support. You train your men."

Mal nodded. "Ain't 'my' men, but I'll try to get at least half of them ready for combat by week's end. And I'll get with Zoe to pick out the ones to send to the other camps. I conjure half-trained is better than not trained at all."

"One takes what one can get," the Operative said, walking toward the door. "And, Captain, in case I have neglected to say it recently, thank you for what you've done here."

"Best be savin' the thanks 'til you see how it all turns out," Mal said honestly, trying to shake the feeling of inevitable defeat from the back of his mind.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I thought I should tell you about a slight change of plan," Thompson said, sitting in Chau's elegant Persephone office. "Without boring you with unnecessary details, suffice it to say that I will not be able to implicate your enemy, Reynolds, in the murder of the Senator. For one thing, he has somehow managed to avoid any Alliance checkpoint that would help me to locate him. But more importantly, there is another candidate for the murder that will work more effectively for our common goals. A leader of the fabled Underground Movement, who has become convinced in recent weeks that he is the murderer."

Chau was less than pleased with this turn of events, but knew better than to show it to the man before him. "How did you convince him to confess to a crime he, presumably, did not commit?"

"I believe it would be best if you did not know all the particulars. Plausible deniability, you know. All you need know is that the situation is under control, and I will dispose of your enemy in another way some other time. We may have some use for him yet."

"Whatever you think best," Chau said, gritting his teeth in frustration and pondering how to gracefully and safely end his insane association with this sociopath.

Thompson was not pleased with the revision of plan either, though he would never admit such a thing. The results achieved in Chau's laboratory had been less successful than he had hoped. While one of the leaders of the Underground Movement was responding exactly as predicted, the other seemed simply to be unraveling at the seams. Implanting the false memory of committing murder had been far simpler than trying to implant a trigger in the suddenly unstable subject. Wracked with false guilt, the poor man was all too willing to confess his imagined crime. With a little more fine-tuning, the hapless victim should be convinced of the need to reveal publicly the identities and plans of the other members of the Underground Movement. While it was not the original plan, Thompson was at least convinced it could be twisted to his advantage. Ever the opportunist, he was able to change course mid-stream to get what he wanted. Its effect on people such as Chau mattered not even remotely as far as he was concerned.

"Can you be back on Osiris by next week?" Thompson asked.

Still thinking primarily of his disappointment that Reynolds would not be dealt with immediately, Chau replied, "I suppose so. Why?'

"By the first of the week, our man will have confessed to Senator Landry's murder publicly. I believe that will be a good time to make our first public statement. Condemnation of the group responsible, a little concern about the recklessness of the Independents, sadness about the corruption of the government which feeds such rebellion. You get the gist. No call for recognition as the third option yet, just a relatively low-key opening gambit. I'll, of course, do all the talking, but I'd like you to be a very visible presence at my side. Concerned citizen, man of the people. Dong ma?"

"Yes, I understand," Chau said. "I'll be at your disposal." Merely saying the words made his flesh crawl, but Andrew Chau lacked the nerve to oppose Thompson in any overt way.

Thompson, of course, was well aware of the deficiency, and had no qualms about exploiting Chau's weakness to his own advantage. "I'll contact you with the exact time and location when I have everything arranged."

XXXXXXXXXX

Jayne lay across Inara's bed, more tired than he could remember being without a serious injury to account for it. "Gorram trench diggin' ain't as easy as it looks when you do it all day in the blazin' heat," he grumbled.

Inara worked soothing oil into his sunburned back and knotted shoulder muscles. "Why is Mal having trenches dug here? Does he think there will be actual fighting on Athens?"

"Don't think so," Jayne replied, groaning as Inara's strong fingers worked a particularly sore knot. "More wantin' the men to get used to building defenses than really thinkin' they'll be of use in a real fight."

"If that's the case, why don't you just supervise the work instead of doing the actual digging with them?"

Jayne snorted. 'When the order goes out to dig trenches, everybody better damn will be diggin' 'em. That's the way Mal runs things. Hell, he was shoulders deep in the trenches himself, slingin' clay like everybody else."

"Ah," Inara said. "So, it's really an exercise in following orders and working as a unit."

"Yeah," Jayne agreed sleepily, beginning to get more relaxed under her ministrations than he'd intended. "Exactly the kind of thing that kept me from joining up with the Independents the first time." His last words were muffled by a large yawn.

Inara chuckled, the sound like delicate music to Jayne's ears. "Life's journeys do tend to lead us in places we couldn't have imagined we'd go," she said softly. "Turn of the wheel, I guess."

Her only answer was Jayne's soft snore.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal sat in the chair beside Adam's bed, wondering tiredly if he had the strength to get up and put the sleeping child into it for the night. He had finally made it back to the house in time to share a bath and a bedtime story with his son, but the events of the day and the weight of Adam in his sore arms were now conspiring against him.

River floated into the room, freshly scrubbed from her bath and humming happily. Seeing Mal's dilemma, she gently took Adam from him and tucked the boy into bed. Rallying Mal enough to get him moved to their bed, she pulled the makeshift curtain dividing the room.

"You didn't eat dinner, did you?" she asked.

"No," Mal murmured. "Too tired to eat. Digging gorram trenches most of the day. Too old for this go se, bao bei, I'm thinkin'."

River chose to ignore the age comment. "What's the plan for tomorrow?" she asked.

"Hand to hand combat drills," Mal replied sleepily. "Could use your expertise if you're willin' to come and demonstrate."

"All right," River said softly. "I'll be there."

"Thanks, darlin'." Mal closed his eyes and was asleep before River could slip under the covers beside him.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Operative walked among the sleeping recruits, most of whom had gotten to their beds as early as humanly possible after the day of hard physical labor they'd endured. But the morale in the camp was high, and the men did not seem to mind the difficult pace Reynolds had set for them. Forty of their ranks had been sent out to other camps to organize the troops there, and every new soldier in the camp was both proud of that fact and eager to be used in an equally important capacity.

The Operative had of course read the files n Serenity's Captain, and had seen firsthand his extraordinary relationship with his crew, but until now, he had never fully understood the potential of the man. In an incredibly short time, Reynolds had managed to turn the small group of volunteers into a cohesive unit capable of mounting a decent offensive campaign against a technologically advanced enemy. And he had somehow managed to foster camaraderie among the men to an uncommon degree. If such results could be duplicated in all the camps, the outcome of a second war for Independence might be vastly different from the first.

The Operative sighed. When he'd expressed a similar thought aloud, Reynolds had flatly reminded him of the futility of fighting on the ground if there was not acceptable air support. And though the Operative was working hard to fill the need, he had made little headway on the problem.

However, there was currently an interesting offer on the table. A wealthy Osiris businessman had contacted the Underground Movement through a third party to discuss the possibility of supplying armed ships to the Independents. He had sent word that he would be willing to discuss the offer only in person at a designated time during the next week. Hoping that he could negotiate a deal that would solve the problem, the Operative intended to leave for Osiris as soon as he could apprise Reynolds of his departure. So determined, he made his way silently away from the troops and back to his temporary quarters, hoping that this Jared Thompson would be the answer to their prayers.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

**Revolution**

**Part VIII—Bump in the Road**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal and the crew carry on as usual, and the Operative runs into a complication.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal watched the troops staring at his wife with something akin to worship as she spun and danced her deadly dance for their instruction. River had been at it for hours, training partner after partner in basic offensive and defensive maneuvers. As one student would master the rudimentary skills, Mal would send him off to teach them to another, until now, at midday, half of the two thousand men and women were spinning and twirling in the hot sun.

Calling a halt for the noon meal, Mal figured to get the second half into the action by day's end. He knew the rapid training method left them more vulnerable than he would like, but at least they wouldn't go into battle like lambs to a slaughter.

"Not lambs," River said, unabashedly reading his thoughts and daintily wiping the sweat from her brow. "A few might even be lions."

"I'd take it as a kindness if you'd point them out to me," Mal said, "Need some lions to send to the other camps."

"Of course," River agreed as she took his hand. They walked slowly back to the house where Inara was occupying the children while Simon tried his hand at cooking. While the doctor had a sure hand in surgery, he became a little less confident with household duties, so everyone was dealing as well as they could with the dubious results of his culinary experiments. No one, however, complained about the fare, as they had all worked up an appetite for anything filling after their various strenuous activities of the morning.

"When do you expect the Operative to return?" Zoe asked, taking a slice of the misshapen loaf of bread Simon had proudly presented.

"Should be back sometime next week," Mal replied. "Hope he comes back with good news. He's meeting with some private businessman about supplying the ships needed for air support."

Zoe had a quick flashback of the crushing disappointment of knowing no air support was coming in Serenity Valley. Shaking her long tresses to halt the memory, she said blandly, "That would be a good thing."

Mal looked at her briefly, re-living the same moment. "Will make all the difference, I'd wager," he said softly.

Sensing the sudden gloom around the table, Inara said brightly, "The children have been painting this morning. Anya's made some beautiful pictures, and Adam's been…enthusiastic."

Kaylee laughed. "I was wondering why his hair was kinda yellow in spots."

"Well, yellow is a pretty color, isn't it, sweetie?" Inara said, smiling with affection at the little boy.

"Nawa yike yeyow," Adam said, grinning.

"Yes, I do," she said, kissing his forehead.

"Adam yike yeyow too," he declared happily.

With the mood thus lightened, the crew continued to meal with their usual blend of humor and camaraderie, until it was time to get back to work.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kaylee tinkered busily on the odd assortment of transport vehicles the Operative had managed to procure for the camp. Horses were still the most reliable transportation on Athens, but Kaylee was working her own brand of magic on the mechanical conveyances as well.

She hummed a tuneless little song as she worked, and Simon smiled when he heard it. Having been consigned to the kitchen all day, he was pleased to be out and about in the fresh air. It was surprising to him how unaccustomed he had become to such a luxury in his time on Serenity.

Looking up from her task, Kaylee jumped. "Sheesh, Simon, you near gave me a heart attack sneakin' up on me like that." It was one of Kaylee's weak points since Jubal Early's menacing encounter with her, and Simon was instantly apologetic.

"Sorry, ai ren," he said, crossing the small space to pull her into his embrace. "Didn't mean to startle you. I was just listening to your song."

Kaylee blushed, well aware that she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. "Sorry you had to hear that," she said sheepishly.

"Don't be silly," Simon said, favoring her with a boyish grin. "I love the sound of it. It's ….happy."

"And are you?" Kaylee asked. "Happy, I mean?"

Simon drew in a breath, and exhaled slowly. "Not as unhappy as I thought I'd be, coming back here. Sometimes it seems like we were just here, burying all those poor people in the heat of the day. Other times, it seems like a lifetime ago, something almost surreal about it." His eyes glazed over, pondering the nature of the memory. Shaking himself slightly, he turned his attention back to Kaylee. He saw her worried look, and gifted her with another smile. "But there's a difference here now, an energy in the air. These people believe in what they're doing, have a hope for the future that staggers the imagination given the odds against them."

"Yeah, they do," Kaylee said, looking out across the busy camp. "But they're just normal folk, plannin' and dreamin' like the rest of us." Wiping her oily hands on her jumper leg, she took Simon's hand. "D'ya come here just to talk pretty, or was there somethin' you wanted?" she asked saucily.

"I very much wanted to take a walk with my wife. I thought we might re-visit that little spot by the stream where we had our picnic."

Kaylee's eyes misted with unshed tears. "Thought you wouldn't remember that, after everything else that happened."

Simon brushed his lips against her soft hair. "Remembering things like that kept me sane through the other things and ever since," he admitted. When Kaylee raised her eyes to look at him again, he kissed her tenderly, as if she were a fragile thing, though in truth he knew she was the greatest source of strength in his life.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The Operative waited, outwardly calm, in the reception area of Jared Thompson's offices. He felt strangely ill at ease, an unaccustomed sensation to him. Attributing it mainly to the thorough weapons scan that had divested him of even the most concealed of his weapons, he tried to shake the feeling. The room was quiet, except for the click of the fingers of the receptionist on the keys of her cortex terminal. By the look of things, she seemed well in control of everything in the room. The Operative thought idly that he could use such an efficient assistant back on Athens.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she looked up at him and smiled pleasantly. "Is there anything you require while you wait, sir?"

"No, thank you," he answered.

Nodding, she returned to her keyboard. The Operative took the opportunity to look around the room, trying to devine the personality of the man who would create such a space. He knew nothing of Thompson, beyond the generic information he had acquired on the Cortex. It seemed that the man had come from nowhere, amassing a personal fortune that would make a man blush for its excess. He had no clue as to how he had come to Thompson's attention, but felt confident he could persuade the man to contribute considerable coin for an air defense if he really was inclined toward supporting the cause of the Independents.

However, in the back of his mind was the disconcerting thought that somehow such a thing would be almost too convenient. The Operative had lived a long time by paying attention to that little section of his brain where alarm bells sounded despite the seeming peace of circumstances around him. He wished briefly that he had been more specific when he had told Reynolds about the meeting, but his natural reluctance to reveal information had kept him quiet. He decided that the best course of action at this point was extreme caution. Relaxing his posture, he settled back to wait.

Just as he was beginning to consider the possibility that Thompson had changed his mind about the meeting, the receptionist smiled brightly. "Mr. Thompson will see you now."

She hit a series of buttons on her console, and a panel slid back to reveal a long, plushly-carpeted hallway. "Mr. Thompson's office is straight ahead at the end of the corridor," she instructed.

Nodding his thanks, the Operative stepped forward, noting that there were several closed doors between him and his destination. The panel slid shut behind him, and the sudden complete silence was strangely unnerving. Thinking wryly that he must be losing his edge, the Operative noted no obvious exits. The observation did nothing to allay his concerns.

As he approached the open door, Jared Thompson himself appeared, smiling broadly. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," he said warmly. "Unfortunately, sometimes such things cannot be helped."

"That is quite all right," the Operative replied. "I am just pleased you had time to meet with me at all."

Thompson ushered him into the office and indicated a chair across from his desk. "Would you care for some refreshments?" he asked graciously. "I know I've kept you waiting through tea-time."

"No, thank you," the Operative said, refusing by long habit to indulge in any refreshment from an unknown hand.

Thompson nodded. "As you wish," he said smoothly. "Now, to business, if you don't object. I understand from my sources that you are somewhat connected with an organization that has, shall we say, certain goals that run counter to those of our current government. Are my sources correct in this?"

"They are," the Operative replied. "It is my understanding that you might be interested in furthering certain of those goals."

"Perhaps," Thompson replied smoothly. "As you must know, I have access to a rather large supply of resources of all sorts that might prove helpful. Of course, I will require a certain amount of disclosure from you regarding the endeavor before I would feel comfortable lending my support. You understand."

The Operative smiled thinly, something in the man's tone making his skin crawl. "I am not at liberty to provide full disclosure. Perhaps if you ask specific questions, I could more readily ascertain what you wish to know." He let the faintest hint of steel show in his voice.

Thompson's eyes glittered menacingly, and his tone became suddenly predatory. "Then let me speak plainly. I want to know the number of troops assembled. I want to know their location. And I want to know every dirty little secret you know about the dealings of the Alliance. I want to know, in short, everything contained in that subtle brain of yours."

The Operative was not a man easily intimidated. Imperceptibly readying himself for defense, he said pleasantly, "Then I fear you will be disappointed."

"I make it a point to never be disappointed for long," Thompson replied, touching a button beneath his desk before the Operative could stop him.

The sound of sliding doors made the short hair on the back of the Operative's neck rise in anticipation. Standing up almost casually, he turned his body sideways to keep Thompson in his view while also surveying the room. Just as he had assumed, it was filling rapidly with men fairly bristling with weaponry.

"For your own safety, I would advise you to take your seat, and answer my questions," Thompson said calmly. "If you would prefer to be taken by force, that is, of course, your choice."

Assessing his options with lightning speed, the Operative spun into action.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

**Revolution**

**Part IX—Waking Nightmare**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal's nightmare leads to a startling revelation, and Inara takes a morning ride.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal stirred restlessly in his sleep, trapped inside a hellish vision of Serenity Valley. He had been plagued with the dream for years, but this time there was a difference. When he looked at the bodies of the dead and dying, he saw not only his familiar ghosts, but the fresh faces of the troops he was training on Athens as well. Just as the nightmare was intensifying to the inevitable moment of jerking awake, Mal was awakened instead by Adam's terrified cry.

"Daddy," Adam screamed, sitting up in his bed, wide-eyed with fear.

Heart still hammering wildly with the effects of the dream, Mal reached Adam in three quick steps with River one step behind. Drawing the frightened child into his arms, Mal whispered gently, "What's the trouble, little fella?"

"Daddy," Adam wailed, reaching up to feel the stubble on Mal's cheek with his chubby little hands.

"It's okay, little one," Mal said, wiping away Adam's tears with the pad of his thumb. "Daddy's here."

Adam laid his head on his father's shoulder, sniffling and clinging to Mal with a surprisingly strong grip. River wrapped her arms around both of them, murmuring soft reassurances in Adam's ear. After a time, Mal felt the little boy relax, slipping back into slumber. Tucking him carefully back into his bed, Mal looked at his wife with troubled eyes.

"He's a reader, isn't he?" he whispered, raw anguish in his voice.

"Yes," River admitted quietly. "At least, I think so. Like I was before the Academy. Mostly potential. Nothing directed or defined."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mal asked hollowly.

"I wasn't sure myself until recently. It's just a whisper, a shadow sometimes. Didn't think you needed to worry about anything else right now. Sorry, ai ren."

Mal knew that she was apologizing not only for keeping the news from him, but also for inadvertently passing on the dangerous trait to their son. He drew a deep breath, and pulled her to him. "Guess that means he saw my dream, then."

River nodded against his chest. "Probably so. It was very…vivid. Difficult to block out."

Mal's voice cracked with emotion. "Woulda' given anything for him never to see such as that, dreamin' or otherwise."

"I know," River replied.

They stood in the silence of the night, drawing strength from the love they shared with each other and the fierce devotion they felt for their young son.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Sure you don't mind ridin' out to Serenity to check the cortex?" Mal asked the next morning, looking at Inara over the saddle he was buckling.

"Of course not," she replied. "Riding is excellent exercise. Strengthens the thigh muscles." She smiled at him sweetly, hoping to lighten the weight she could see he was carrying on his shoulders, if only for a moment.

"Yeah well, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be thinkin' 'bout your thigh muscles," Mal replied, blushing slightly.

Climbing onto her mount, Inara laughed. "I can see how that might be best," she said lightly.

"You do realize you're an evil woman, don't you?" Mal replied.

"So my legend tells," Inara answered merrily, nudging the horse into an easy trot.

Mal watched her go, worried despite their banter about what news she might bring back from the cortex. Everyday for the past week, he or someone else from the crew had made the trip to check for word from the Operative, and the lack of news was troubling. Things were proceeding along well enough in the camp. He had about a hundred more men ready to be dispatched to the other camps to train more soldiers, but he was strangely hesitant to send them without hearing from the Operative first.

He had a nagging suspicion that the Operative was in some sort of serious trouble. And when he read the news from the cortex, he had other concerns as well. Though the Operative had never openly admitted it, it was obvious to Mal that someone or something was escalating events much more quickly than the Operative had planned. Mal knew the man to be both subtle and well-organized, and assumed that he would never have intentionally created such a volatile situation before having an army ready for battle. As it was, Mal knew that the Operative was desperately trying to prepare for events he did not initiate. And, he thought grimly, that kind of desperation tended to get folk killed.

Added to that were the unsolved disappearances of two of the leaders of the Underground Movement and the three former Academy students. Mal was fairly confident that the person or persons responsible for the death of the woman found on the Osiris docks could answer a question or two about that. And to his knowledge, the Operative had made no headway in solving any of those mysteries.

He sighed wearily, wondering how it could be that finding a safe haven for his family had led to such a tangled set of circumstances. Just seemed all manner of wrong somehow. Why did things never go smooth? he wondered, not for the first time. Turning back toward the camp, he pushed all his concerns to the back of his mind so that he could give his full attention to the tasks of the morning and the men and women who were depending on him.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Inara reached Serenity, she decided to take a few minutes to answer her personal waves before checking on waves for Mal and looking through current news items. She wondered uncomfortably how long Serenity would stay on Athens and just how long a second war for Independence might last. She had established clients who had seemed content to wait for her return for awhile, but she was by not so naïve as to believe they would wait indefinitely. And while she was by no means destitute, a substantial amount of her savings had been used in the months after her assault for her therapy and living expenses in Greenleaf and then, later, on Serenity. And there was really no reasonable way to make money on Athens, as the only prospective clients were too busily occupied with learning the art of war from Mal and Zoe, or too poor to afford her rates. So, it was with pleasure that she saw the large number of personal waves for her perusal. Before she was aware of it, most of the morning had passed as she answered her correspondence.

Feeling vaguely guilty to have let so much time pass, Inara turned her attention to the task for which Mal had sent her. There was indeed a message from the Operative, but it had a security code that Inara could not bypass. Mal would doubtless be irritated that he would have to go to Serenity himself to retrieve it, she thought briefly. Quickly scanning through the top news on the cortex, Inara took note of several items to bring to Mal's attention. As she reached to turn off the screen, she paused, catching sight of the end of a news report that made her heart thud unpleasantly in her chest. Quickly securing Serenity, she mounted her horse and spurred it quickly toward the settlement to find Mal.

XXXXXXXXXX

Simon assessed the wound on the leg of the young man lying on the makeshift stretcher in front of him. "Looks as if your partner got a little too enthusiastic with the hand to hand combat practice," he observed calmly.

The young man grimaced at Simon prodded at the split skin across his right shin. "Cap'n Reynolds warned us to be careful 'bout connectin'. Ya' know, pull our punches and the like. But Tommy ain't never had much self-control. Got carried away, and landed that sharp boot edge right 'cross my leg bone," he gritted out.

"Doesn't look too deep," Simon soothed his patient. "I just need to irrigate it and apply a decent weave. You'll be back out there in no time."

"Hope that's the truth, doc. Sure don't wanna miss nothin'. I have a feelin' I'm gonna need all the trainin' I can get. I ain't never even toted a gun 'til now."

The ingenuousness of the recruit's statement made Simon's heart ache. He had been called into the camp for several minor injuries, and almost to a man, everyone he saw looked so innocent and non-threatening that he could barely imagine how they would be able to fight an enemy as ruthless as the Alliance. But, as he had mentioned to Kaylee, they seemed full of enthusiasm for the task.

When he had said as much to the captain, Mal had replied that the older ones who had volunteered, the ones with some experience, had been dispatched to other camps in hopes that they, like Mal, could at least give the young among them some instruction. For the most part though, Mal admitted, the camps were filled with men much like the ones Simon saw, at least according to the Operative. "Most wars are fought by young men," Mal had said shortly, and Simon knew it to be true enough. The knowledge did nothing to relieve the sorrow in his heart for the young men though.

Having applied the weave, Simon watched the man limp away, leaning heavily on the shoulder of the man who had inadvertently injured him. Simon washed his hands and headed back to the house. He'd left Kaylee watching Adam and Anya, but knew she really needed to be working on the transport vehicles as Mal had instructed.

Climbing the porch steps, he heard the sound of Kaylee's happy laughter and the squeals of the children. Slipping quietly into the house, he watched from the hallway as Kaylee chased the giggling Anya around the living room, carrying Adam like a sack of potatoes on one hip. Once Anya was captured, Kaylee set Adam down on his sturdy little legs and urged him to go hide while Anya began to count to fifty. Adam ran off, his laughter revealing his path clearly to the older child.

Kaylee saw Simon standing in the shadows of the hallway. Tiptoeing quickly to his side, she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Fifty?" he whispered. "As I recall, it was always ten."

"Well," Kaylee grinned, "we gotta give the little one an advantage any way we can. It ain't like he's all that good as hiding quiet-like."

Simon chuckled. "A bit like his father in that, I suppose."

Kaylee elbowed him in the ribs, but smiled nonetheless. "Now that weren't charitable," she chided softly.

"Perhaps not, but it was true enough," Simon said, still laughing.

"You two better quit moonin' over each other, and look to the young 'uns," Jayne said, coming down the stairs holding Adam upside down by his ankles. "Found this little squirt halfway up the stairs."

Kaylee rushed to take Adam from his precarious position, but Adam squirmed out of her grasp, holding his arms up to Jayne. "Again, Missa Jayne, again," he demanded, hopping about eagerly. Though secretly pleased, Jayne made a show of rolling his eyes and sighing loudly. "Alright, squirt. One more time, but that's it."

As he turned the boy upside down again, Adam squealed with delight, while Kaylee looked on worriedly. "He just had lunch, Jayne. You'd best be turnin' him right side up real quick."

"Well, you heard her, squirt," Jayne said, setting Adam down on suddenly wobbly legs. "Gotta get back to work anyways."

Kaylee jumped, having forgotten her own job in the pleasure of playing with the children. "Me too," she said, squeezing Simon's hand. "Can you handle 'em from here?"

Simon smiled. "I've got it, ai ren. Go ahead, before Mal comes looking for you." As he watched his wife walk down the dusty road with Jayne, he thought about how very happy she had looked playing with Anya and Adam.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal knew something was wrong when he saw Inara's horse galloping toward the camp, sending up clouds of dust in its wake. Inara dismounted quickly, turning the reins over to Mal. "What's happened?" Mal asked urgently.

"Message from the Operative I couldn't open," Inara said breathlessly. "And something on the cortex you need to see right away."

Mal turned the horse quickly back toward Serenity. "Tell River where I've gone," he called out behind him as he urged the horse to greater speed.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

**Revolution**

**Part X—Communication**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Thompson makes his first public appearance, and Mal gets word from the Operative.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson watched as his scientists continued their delicate work, willing them to greater speed. The Operative twitched and jerked under their hands, kept in a state of semi-consciousness. His was a formidable will and thus far, Thompson had been less pleased with the results achieved. He had lost four fairly capable employees in the little skirmish in his office, though he had to admit that was partially his own fault. His men had been warned not to visibly mar the man, so that had left their options somewhat limited. It had taken several blasts from a sonic rifle to even subdue the Operative long enough to dope him into helpless unconsciousness. Thompson thought coldly that he could use such a man as a weapon very well indeed if the scientists would only speed their work along.

They had managed to achieve the barest of successes earlier in the day, however. Compelling the Operative with the most basic of their behavioral conditioning, they had awakened him thoroughly enough to send a passably believable message to his contact in Athens. Thompson wished to allay any suspicion about the Operative's disappearance for as long as possible. Though he had found it almost comically ironic that the man's contact was the same Malcolm Reynolds that had inconvenienced Chau so thoroughly, Thompson had a much larger goal in mind that made it imperative not to stir Reynolds, or any other idiot, to premature action to rescue the Operative.

Turning way from the scientists' work, he mentally reviewed the results achieved thus far. Both of the original subjects had been released to fulfill their purpose. And Thompson knew much of what he needed to know to cripple the Independents and bring the Alliance to its knees as well. Even he had been surprised by the information ripped from the mind of the Operative about his former employers. Though the man had used the media brilliantly to sow the seeds of rebellion, he had be no means revealed all that Thompson now knew. It was regrettable, Thompson thought idly, that he would never be able to ask the Operative why he had held back some of the more damaging information. Once the scientists completed their work, the Operative would, of necessity, not remember enough to say with any certainty, and Thompson was vaguely curious as to the answer.

Glancing at the chronometer, Thompson sighed. Though he had no desire to see Chau this evening, he had been hard-pressed to refuse the man's invitation to dine, as Chau had assured him that the others at his table would be very helpful to their public image, as well as their coffers. Having made the first foray into the realm of public opinion that morning, Thompson knew that Chau was right to use every opportunity to bring adherents to their cause. His connections were invaluable at this stage, and though Thompson found Chau to be weak to the point of being disgusting, he would use the man as long as necessary. Checking his appearance in the mirror and finding everything satisfactory, he called for his driver.

XXXXXXXXX

When River and Inara got to Serenity, Mal had already viewed the wave from the Operative three times, and was grimly re-reading the main news dominating the Cortex. Hearing River's soft footfall, he reactivated the Operative's wave. "Take a look at this, bao bei," he said, covering her hand on his shoulder with his own.

River watched silently as the Operative's face filled the screen. "Captain Reynolds, I'm sorry to have missed you. I hope all is proceeding well with the men. You will be pleased to hear that I have procured a promise of aid from my contact here. He assured me that he can provide at least half of what we will require in the way of ships. He asks that I stay on a few days to meet with additional supporters. It is his expectation that we should be able to garner the additional resources within a reasonable timeframe. I realize it is an inconvenience for you to manage the camp alone, but I am certain you will agree that acquiring well-equipped ships is well worth the added difficulty. I will be in contact again before I depart Osiris. Good day, Captain." The screen faded to black.

"Well, at least that was good news," Inara said, faintly surprised.

"Yeah," Mal answered hesitantly. "Only a little too good, I'm thinkin'." Looking up at River, he asked, "You pick up on anything odd when you watched that?"

"Flat," she replied immediately. "Nothing behind his eyes."

"Any chance that's just because it's a recording?" Mal asked.

"It's possible, I suppose," River replied. "But I don't think so."

Mal nodded. "That's what I was afraid of."

"But what does that mean?" Inara asked.

"Tampering," River answered, beginning to tremble a little at the thought. She knew better than either Mal or Inara how such tampering was accomplished, and how very horrible the effect could be, both for the victim and anyone with whom he came in contact.

"So, he's been captured by the Alliance," Inara said slowly.

"Not necessarily," Mal replied. "He said he was meeting a prominent businessman on Osiris. I'm thinkin' he would have known about any Alliance connection. Woulda' checked it out before goin' in."

"Well, if it's not Alliance, then who is it?" Inara asked.

"Don't have a clue," Mal admitted, glancing up at River. "Any ideas, darlin'?"

River shook her head. "What are you going to do, air en?"

"Ain't rightly sure what I can do," Mal answered. "Don't have much to go on to find him, and I'm fair certain I wouldn't know what to do with him when I found him if he's been 'tampered' with. Weren't all that warm and fuzzy before being altered in the brainpan."

"What about the other news?" River asked. "Inara said there was something else."

Mal sighed. Reluctantly, he pulled up the news on the cortex. Inara gripped the back of the pilot's chair, forcing herself to remain calm as the report began and Andrew Chau's face appeared on the screen. River's sharp intake of breath let Mal know she remembered the man as well.

The report told of the arrest of a man in connection with the death of Senator Landry. When his picture flashed across the screen, River blurted out, "This can't be right. I know this man. He's…"

"One of the leaders of the Underground Movement," Mal finished. "I know, the press has been having a high old time playin' up that little fact. But he's confessed to the crime, bao bei. Even said in his statement that he was acting on orders from the new Independent Army affiliated with the movement."

"Why would he lie?" Inara asked. "I mean, you don't think there could be any truth to it, do you?"

Mal did not answer directly. "Watch the rest of the report."

The women fell silent as Mal turned up the volume. The report continued, "Public outrage at the chilling admission had led some government officials to call for a vote in Parliament to declare war on the small group of rebels. However, cooler heads prevailed today, as a small cadre of individuals from various backgrounds gathered to call for peace. Led by the charismatic Jared Thompson, a highly successful entrepreneur, the group appeared on the steps of the jail where the alleged leader of the Underground Movement is being held. Thompson, flanked on either side by well-respected leaders of the community, gave a stirring speech, denouncing both the rebel group responsible for the slaying, and the excesses of the government that have led to such civil unrest. Calling both for justice for the late Senator and sweeping reforms to the current political system, Thompson vowed to establish a taskforce to consider the needed reforms and offer a peaceful resolution to the current crisis, as the crowds gathered cheered his comments enthusiastically. But will this call for peace be enough to quell the rising tensions on both sides? Joining us now is our political analyst …"

Mal turned off the transmission, and silence fell as the three pondered everything they had just seen and heard.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Operative drifted slowly in and out of consciousness, dimly aware that something had gone horribly wrong. He had the odd sensation that his body was somehow disconnected from his brain, and therefore unable to comply with the simplest of orders to open his eyes. Trying to hold onto conscious thought long enough to figure out where he was proved to be more challenging than he could have imagined.

His legs and arms seemed to be immovable, unaccountably heavy as lead. Grasping each slight perceived sensation, he felt strangely empty of will and desire. He heard an indistinct whisper in his ear, like the steady drone of an insect buzzing in his head. Then, there was silence, white and hot against his skin, assaulting his tattered thoughts, dizzyingly followed by red noise, beating into his brain like a bludgeon. He was almost certain he was screaming, but none of the harsh noises he heard belonged to him. Spiralling downward, he clawed for any stimulus to fill the sudden disconnect, the wide void that gaped open to swallow the last of his awareness. There was something…something very important he needed to remember, he thought, casting about frantically for the completed thought. Something he had to do. Something vital, something that might release him from this hellish imprisonment in shadow. Something worth fighting for. But the thought eluded him, and he let the wisp of it swirl away as he slipped further into the oblivion of deep unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jayne looked down the dusty road, impatient to see Inara return to the house. Though he'd been busily occupied with the task of training the less proficient marksmen among the troops to improve their abilities, he had positioned himself in such a way that he would not miss her return. He had seen the way she'd ridden into the camp earlier, obviously agitated by something. And Jayne did not like it when Inara was agitated. It filled him with an uncomfortableness. And then, when she and River had ridden back toward Serenity without so much as a word of explanation, Jayne's hackles had really begun to rise. It couldn't be anything but an eerie-ass set of complications that would account for such actions, and Jayne was fair certain they all had complications aplenty in the camp without adding any more. Only so many bullets a man can take before one of 'em takes him down permanent-like, Jayne thought grimly.

Turning back to show yet another young grunt how to sight down the barrel of a rifle properly, he caught Zoe looking down the same road. Though her face betrayed no emotion, Jayne had been in enough pear-shaped situations with her to detect the tension in her stance. And to the extent that Jayne was worried, he knew that Zoe and Mal were both more worried about the current situation and the war they were probably all going to get dragged into. Jayne had no wish to see it, and he was gorram sure if he'd lived through one before, he would have better sense than to volunteer a second time. But Mal and Zoe might just be fool enough to do it again. They seemed to Jayne to be what his mama called 'hellbent'. He wasn't rightly sure why the thought should bother him so, but somewhere deep inside him, Jayne knew that, willing or not, he would follow Mal into the jaws of hell now. Scowling at his own stupidity, Jayne grabbed the weapon out of the young man's hand and showed him yet again how to hold it properly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kaylee walked back to the house, tired from her work under the shed. Looking around the living area, she was puzzled to see no sign of Simon and the children. Thinking that perhaps he'd put them down for a nap, she peeked in both downstairs bedrooms, but they were empty.

She quietly climbed the stairs and headed to her own bedroom to change out of her dirty clothes. Opening the door, she stopped short, grinning at the sight before her. Simon lay sprawled in the middle of their bed, vest unbuttoned and one arm flung over his head. Adam lay sleeping against his side, curled into the crook of his other arm. Anya, too, lay there, one leg thrown haphazardly over Simon's shin. Standing there looking at the scene, Kaylee prayed again that one day soon Simon would overcome his guilt and decide that it was time to give Kaylee some babies of her own.

Backing out of the room soundlessly, she headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Lost in her own thoughts, she turned on the faucet and filled her glass. She took a deep drink and glanced out the window above the little sink. Suddenly sputtering through the water still in her mouth, she saw a small, sleek ship on the horizon. Filled with foreboding, she watched as the ship landed gently on the lawn at the edge of the yard. She thought frantically about the two defenseless children upstairs and the distance between the house and the camp. Steeling herself, she reached up into the cupboard and retrieved the gun Mal had hidden there on their arrival. And stepping out onto the porch, she went to meet their uninvited guests.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

**Revolution**

**Part XI—Visitors**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Bearing ominous tidings, the visitors have a meeting with Mal and the crew.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kaylee nervously fingered the gun in her hand, as the ramp of the little vessel lowered to the dusty ground of Athens. For a moment, no one appeared, and Kaylee's mind began to supply all kinds of terrifying thoughts as to who might be aboard the ship. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she advanced cautiously.

Abruptly, three people appeared in the doorway of the vessel. "Mrs. Tam, we've come for the Operative," they said, eerily in unison. "And we need to speak with him and Captain Reynolds urgently."

Kaylee nodded, her knees weak with relief at recognizing the three Academy students who'd helped them rescue the Captain from the Salisbury prison, Joel, Peter, and Mei Ling. Before she could answer, Zoe's voice rang out across the yard, "The Operative is offworld, and the Captain ain't available right now. What can I do for you?" Kaylee turned to see Zoe and Jayne standing a few feet away, weapons trained steadily on the three visitors.

Joel stepped forward, nothing in his demeanor suggesting that he was disturbed by the possibility of being shot where he stood. "Mrs. Washburne, we have news for the Captain that is of the utmost urgency. Send someone to get him, please….and ask him to bring River with him."

Zoe regarded the trio solemnly, weighing their intentions in her stoic way. Finally, she nodded to Jayne. "Go get the Captain. I'll see to things here."

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson sat comfortably beside the fire in Chau's parlor, swirling brandy lazily in a snifter. For all his companion's obvious weakness, he had to admit the man knew how to live well.

"You certainly set a fine table this evening, Andrew," he said, his voice mellow.

"Thank you, Jared," Chau replied, inclining his head briefly. "I believe our guests were quite taken with your charms as well. You spoke eloquently, I must say."

"They did seem rather eager to support our little venture," Thompson agreed. "One would think that they would be less willing to bite the proverbial hand that feeds them."

"Well, I chose my guests carefully," Chau answered. "While most of them have made embarrassingly large sums of money under Alliance rule, they are intelligent enough to see the advantages of a change of government. Especially if they will be its founding fathers, so to speak."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Thompson said smoothly. "While money is certainly enjoyable, power is much more desirable to a real man." Pausing briefly, he added, "I believe we should make another public statement, perhaps as early as next week. Will you be staying here, or returning to Persephone?"

"I can arrange to stay here," Chau said, thinking of how pleasurable it had been to be in the spotlight at Thompson's side. "My business affairs in Persephone are all in order, and I see no reason to go back just now." Cautiously he added, "And I'd be interested to see what you're doing in my labs."

Thompson frowned slightly. "I'd prefer minimal interference with my work there. I fear you might find it disturbing, in any case. Why don't you leave that aspect of things to me?"

Chau nodded, disappointed but nor enough to challenge the man. "As you wish," he replied.

"Well," Thompson said, setting his glass down on the side table. "I suppose it's time for me to go. I have a rather busy day tomorrow, and need my rest. Thank you for a lovely evening."

"You are, of course, always welcome," Chau said, rising to escort his guest to the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal and the crew were gathered around the table in the kitchen, eyeing the three Academy students warily. River looked carefully at them, reading the truth of their intent as they willingly opened their minds to her scrutiny. Finally, she withdrew, and looked over at Mal. "I detect no deception in them."

"All right, then," Mal said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Before we answer your questions, I think maybehaps you should answer ours. The Operative said that you'd disappeared. Where did you go?"

"To a safe place," Joel answered noncommittally.

"Why?" Mal asked.

"When the murdered woman was found on the docks, Mei Ling had a…flash of what had happened. Nothing detailed enough to tell us who was responsible, but enough to let us know the members of the movement had been compromised. Then, before we could determine the best course of action, we lost contact with the two leaders of the movement. So, we left."

"Just left your people to twist in the wind, then," Jayne said, disgust evident in his tone.

Peter sighed. "It wasn't like that. You don't understand, though I'm sure River does. If we had been discovered, we had no illusions about the potential damage we could be manipulated to inflict on the people we were trying to help. Turned back into weapons at the whim of some madman."

River shivered, well aware of such potential. It was a fear that haunted her always, even now when she had attained reasonable stability. Mal put his arm around her shoulders, silently reassuring her of his love and trust. "Okay, assumin' that's so, why'd you leave your safe place to come here now?"

"We needed to speak with the Operative. We think the entire Underground Movement is now compromised. When we saw the report about Landry's murderer, we knew it could not be correct."

"Well, the man confessed to the crime," Simon began.

Mei Ling interrupted. "Perhaps so, but we know him personally, and he is no killer. And we're positive his accusation about the movement being behind the Senator's murder is false. We are part of that movement, and I hardly believe that such a plot could have been so completely concealed from three readers."

"So you think he's being coerced into a confession?" Mal asked.

"Either coerced knowingly or triggered subconsciously, yes," Peter confirmed.

"What of the other people involved with the underground?" Inara asked.

"As far as we can ascertain, they have scattered to different places for safety. Of course, the only three men who would have known where to contact all of them are the Operative, the confessed murderer, and the other leader who disappeared at the same time."

"And the third man hasn't made an appearance or tried to contact anyone, to your knowledge?" Mal asked.

"No," the three answered simultaneously. Peter added, "So you can see why we need to talk to the Operative. Captain, please tell us where he is."

Mal sighed heavily. "I ain't got the slightest notion where he is," he answered. "Somewhere on Osiris, I'm thinkin'. But if River's reading the situation right, he's not gonna be much help to you. If anything, at this point you might find him to be a liability." He went on to explain how he and River had come to that conclusion after retrieving the Operative's message. "And if the Operative is under some kind of mind control, it ain't just the Underground Movement that's vulnerable. This settlement, and every other Independent camp, for that matter, is in danger."

Silence settled heavily in the room, as the broader implications of their dangerous situation sank in. Finally Mal spoke again. "Way I see it, we got two jobs as needs doin' right now if we're gonna make it out of this mess. We've got to evacuate the camps, and find the Operative."

"Why not just call for the troops to take up arms to defend their positions?" Joel asked.

"'Cause they ain't anywhere near ready to fight," Mal said flatly. "If the Alliance knows where we all are, you can bet they'll send ships and troops enough to defeat every camp outright. We stay put here, and I'll guarantee that every last one of us will die in the dirt." He paused for a moment. "None of 'em got any air support nor even munitions enough to scratch the belly of the beast."

"Speaking of air support, sir, how do you propose we get the camps evacuated?" Zoe asked. "We haven't got anywhere near enough transports to get them all off-world. Not even the ones right here on Athens."

Mal thought for a minute. "How many you figure we could get out right now?"

Kaylee spoke up. "I've finished repairin' all the little skiffs we got. So we could use them, if'n the trip wasn't gonna be too long."

"About thirty could go on each skiff, without straining overmuch," Zoe observed.

"And how many skiffs we got, lil' Kaylee?" Mal asked.

Kaylee did the mental math. "Twelve," she answered.

"Okay," Mal said. "We got twelve as can pilot 'em, you reckon?"

"I'll go find out," Zoe said. "But where you thinkin' on sendin' 'em once they're in the Black?"

"Still workin' on it," Mal answered tersely. "Just get the men and supplies ready to move. I'll see to the rest."

"Yes sir," Zoe said, rising immediately from the table.

"At the rate of three hundred sixty men evacuated at a time," Peter said, "the skiffs will have to make five round trips and a final trip for the last group. Are you certain you have that kind of time, Captain Reynolds?"

"If what you've said is true, I'm fair certain I don't," Mal replied grimly. "And there's still the Operative to find, just in case he ain't been damaged beyond helping. Could be he hasn't been forced to reveal quite everything he knows yet. If that's the case, sooner would be better than later to get him outta there."

Mei Ling nodded. "We can search for the Operative, Captain."

Joel objected. "Mei Ling, he doesn't even know where the Operative is. And if he is on Osiris in the hands of someone with the ability to manipulate his behaviors, we would be irresponsible to put ourselves into the grasp of such an enemy."

Mei Ling opened her mouth to object, but Mal cut her short. "He's right, Mei Ling. I'll be going to get the Operative myself. Much too dangerous for you, and I'm guessin' I ain't as like to end up as a secret governmental weapon if things go pear-shaped." He smiled dryly.

River finally spoke. "You can't go alone, Mal. I'll go with you."

"No," he said quickly. "And for the same reasons as these three ain't goin'. Wasn't planning to go alone. I'll take Jayne."

River glowered at him, about to argue. "Can't be letting both of Adam's parents go into the lions' den, now can we?' he whispered, forestalling her argument. Turning back to address the group, he added, "First things first. Everybody get with Zoe to help ease the organizing along. I got some waves to send and some favors to call in."

Everyone except River dispersed immediately, sensing the urgency of the work to be done. When the room had cleared, she turned worried eyes to Mal. "Jayne won't be able to do for you what I can, ai ren."

Mal smiled wickedly, trying to lighten the mood. "That's a pure truth. Nor would I be willin' to let 'im even try."

River rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Quit trying to distract me. Jayne's no reader, and you'll be walking into it blind."

"I'd rather take my chances walkin' in blind than to leave Adam an orphan," Mal said firmly. "Jayne's a gorram good tracker, and he's more than useful in a fight."

River still looked unsure. "Darlin'," Mal said, pulling her close. "I need you to see that everybody else on the crew gets away from here safe. I figure you and Zoe are the two people in the 'verse I'd trust to do it. Dong ma?"

River nodded, blinking back tears. Squaring her shoulders, she said, "You'd best not make me a widow, Malcolm Reynolds."

"I'll try not to, darlin'." He answered, brushing his lips softly against her hair.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

**Revolution**

**Part XII—Friends and Allies**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal calls on a few friends to help matters.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal had spent the long night contacting each Independent camp commander, ascertaining specific troop numbers at each location and getting an inventory of operating transport vessels each camp had at its disposal. As most of the camps were located on populated worlds, some of the troops could integrate into the general population to avoid detection by Alliance troops. Of course, such a strategy was of limited use even on the most populated of the worlds, and each camp was in need of transport for at least some of its people.

Mal looked up from Serenity's cortex screen to see that it was nearly dawn. Stretching to relieve his tensed shoulder muscles, he heard a small sound behind him. He reached slowly for his gun, and whirling around, pointed it in the direction of the sound. Peter raised his hands in surrender.

Mal exhaled slowly. "Not the best idea to sneak up on an armed man on the edge," he said.

Peter shrugged, dropping his hands to his side. "Not the best idea to draw a weapon on a scientifically-enhanced killer boy, either."

Mal snorted softly. "Guess you got a point," he admitted. "How'd you find me?"

Peter rolled his eyes in a strangely River-like way, and Mal briefly wondered if that expression was standard for all Readers.

"Okay, stupid question," he said. "Here's a smarter one. Why are you here?"

Indicating the co-pilot's chair, Peter asked, "May I?" When Mal nodded, he sat down gingerly. "Do you really think you have a chance of finding the Operative before it's too late?"

"Wouldn't be plannin' on goin' if there wasn't a chance," Mal replied steadily.

"But why would you go?" Peter asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why would you risk your life to save him? I know that he tried to capture River once, and killed all your contacts on a number of worlds. And I know he almost succeeded in killing you and your entire crew. How can you forgive him for that?"

Mal considered his answer carefully. "Don't know as I have forgiven him for that. But I do know that when he did those things, he believed it was the right thing to be doing. And when he learned the truth of what the Alliance is capable of, I watched him lose faith in everything he believed in. Ain't an easy thing to get back up after you've lost that, but he did. Defied his orders and told his men to stand down. Patched up our hurts, at least the ones he could patch. Found himself something new to believe in, and he's helped me and mine to do what needed doin' more'n once now. Don't seem exactly right to leave a man like that to the wolves, does it?"

"I suppose not," Peter answered. He paused for a moment. "Do you think he'll be capable of helping us locate the other Underground members? I mean, given what River said about the tampering he's probably endured."

"Hope so," Mal said. "I haven't forgotten how your group came through for me on Salisbury, not to mention that if the Underground hadn't helped Simon to get River out of the Academy, I'd not have ever met my wife to begin with. Hate to see anything bad happen to such folks."

"Me too," Peter said quietly. "Especially…one of them," he blurted out. "See, there's this girl…"

Mal smiled at his sudden earnestness. "Ain't there always?"

Peter blushed, reminding Mal of how very young the boy was. "It's just…she's not put off by my ….special abilities. She doesn't act like I'm some kind of freak." Mal nodded, wondering where this was headed. Reading the thought, Peter got to the point. "I can't find her. Not in person, and not.." He pointed to his forehead. "Not in here either."

"Don't mean there's anything wrong necessarily," Mal said. "There's times River's lost track of me, and I ain't dead just yet. Could just be she's too far away for you to pick up her signal, in a manner of speakin'."

Peter looked at him hopefully. "You really think so?"

"Don't see why not," Mal said.

"In that case, Captain, what can I do to help you locate the Operative?"

Mal looked at him intently. "You can give me your ship."

"What?" Peter asked in confusion.

"I need to get my crew off Athens, as soon as I can," Mal said.

"Our ship is too small to accommodate your crew," Peter replied.

Mall nodded. "I know. They'll have to leave on Serenity. But I can't go along with them, so if I send them away, I'm stranded. We've already been over why the three of you can't go with me, so I need you to leave with Serenity and let me have your ship to get to the Operative."

"And where would you want us to go with your people?"

"I figure you might take 'em wherever you were hidin' before you came here," Mal replied calmly. "When I find the Operative, me and Jayne'll meet up with you and we'll swap ships. Sound like a plan?"

Peter paused for a moment, running through the variables in his mind. Then he smiled. "All right, Captain Reynolds. I believe I can convince Joel and Mei Ling without too much trouble."

"They give you any grief, just remember that girl you told me about. I'm fair certain that'll make you all manner of persuasive."

XXXXXXXXXX

Knowing he couldn't even begin to work out the particulars of arranging transport for all the camps without at least an hour or two of sleep, Mal decided to sleep in his bunk instead of going back to the house.

Mid-morning he awoke, still groggy but too hungry to keep sleeping. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulled his suspenders back up and headed to the galley. On the table in front of his customary chair was a plate of fresh fruit and some bread with a note from River. Appreciating the unobtrusive support, he took the plate back to the bridge, and activated the cortex screen yet again.

Within moments, Monty's face appeared. "Malcolm Reynolds," he said heartily. "Didn't expect to be hearing' from you again so soon. Thought you was plannin' to go to ground 'til this mess all settled down."

Mal smiled wryly. "That was the plan, but it ain't exactly how everything turned out." Mal explained the situation as succinctly as he could. Monty listened carefully, his normal jovial expression becoming grave as the tale went on. "Reckon that explains the slew of warships we been seein'," he said grimly. "I wondered where all they was headed, seein' as how there ain't technically a war on yet."

"How many have you seen?" Mal asked tightly.

Monty shook his head. "Can't rightly say. Lost count sometime yesterday after 'bout the tenth one."

"Ten in your little spot of Black?" Mal asked, more disheartened by the news than he could say.

"Yup," Monty replied. "One everywhere you turn. Makin' my men skittish, it is."

"Sort of a creepifying thought to me, too," Mal said dryly. "Near as I can tell, I got forty thousand men scattered all over the Rim that need to get out fast, and no way to get 'em to safety. I been thinkin' to call on some of our mutual acquaintances to help us out. Trouble is, I can only come up with a handful of crews I'd even trust enough to ask. And there's no tellin' how far away they might be."

"Who you got in mind?' Monty asked.

Mal went down the pitifully short list. When he'd finished, Monty added a few possibilities. "Ain't near enough to get the job done, but it's a start," Monty said.

Mal nodded. "I'd take it as a kindness if you'd contact the ones you know who might help. I'll wave the others."

"Will do, Mal. I'll let you know soon's I can," Monty said.

"I'm much obliged to you," Mal responded. "And Monty, be careful out there."

Monty smiled. "Was just about to say the same to you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal and Zoe sat on Serenity's bridge, discussing the progress of the evacuation plans. Zoe, with her typical efficiency, had the two thousand on Athens packed and ready for transport at Mal's command.

"Sir, when all these folks get where it is they're goin', then what?" Zoe asked. "If the Alliance presence is as heavy as Monty says, how are the men gonna be able to regroup?"

Mal sighed. "Maybe they aren't gonna have to re-group," he said. "Could be this guy Thompson on the news and his group may talk everybody back down from the edge. And if we can get the men in all the camps out before the Alliance forces get to them, there won't be any fighting to be done just yet."

Zoe looked at him skeptically. "Plan seems sorta iffy to me."

"You got a better one?" Mal asked, his exhaustion making him irritable. At Zoe's reproving look, he softened his tone. "I'm still pretty gorram sure I don't want to have to fight, Zoe. Came here mainly to keep the crew safe."

"Same for me, sir," Zoe replied. "But when I started really training the men, I suppose I got a little more likely to end up goin' with 'em into battle. Feel sorta responsible for what happens to them."

"Yeah," Mal said, acknowledging a similar feeling. "But I don't think they're ready, and I hope we don't have to test the theory. Ain't the right time."

"I agree, sir," Zoe said. "So what are you gonna tell 'em when they get on the transports?"

"I'm gonna tell 'em to go home," Mal said. "Gonna say to them to remember what they've learned here and forget who taught it to 'em. Gonna tell 'em to come back when they hear the word to do so, and not before then. 'Til then, go on back to their lives and keep quiet. Then, when we see what's going on with the Operative, if he's able, he can call 'em back when he's ready. 'Cause if it's up to me, they ain't gonna be called back until there's some reasonable chance they might be able to live through it."

"You're basically talking about disbanding the army. I doubt that's what the Operative had in mind when he harbored us here," Zoe observed.

"Well, bein' as how he ain't here to say," Mal said, "we're just gonna have to go with what I think. If he's got brain enough left to decide when I find him, he can argue with me about it then."

An incoming wave halted their conversation. Monty's face appeared again. "Mal, I think I got good news. Fella by the name of Jernigan runs a freight operation outta Regina. Fought in Dhu Khang for the 87th. He's got about thirty freighters he can spare for some short trips here and there. Figures if you can lay in the rations, he can fit about five hundred men into each ship, if'n they can stand being in cargo containers. He can rig 'em for air and the like."

"Why can't the men just stay in the cargo area without getting into containers?" Mal asked.

"Jernigan runs a big operation, and he goes through Alliance checkpoints all the time," Monty explained. "Says the inspectors know him well enough to leave the contents of the containers be. But they do board his ships and make at least a show of lookin' around, so he can't have folk just milling about."

"You trust this guy, Monty?" Mal asked.

Monty nodded. "We've had dealin's before, and he ain't ever welched on a deal as I know of. And he's got a pretty fair setup for getting folk moved around quick-like. 'Tween him and the other crews we've lined up, it might work. If you're willin', he's waitin' to talk to ya'."

"Oh, I'm more than willin'," Mal said, "Where can I reach him?"

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

**Revolution**

**Part XIII—Evacuation**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal meets with Jernigan, and Simon has something to tell Kaylee.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal was not a man given to easy trust in his fellow man, having learned from harsh experience that it was often undeserved if given too quickly. However, he was almost instantly put at ease when he saw Fred Jernigan for the first time. Perhaps it was because Jernigan looked much like the description of Santa Claus he remembered from his childhood, complete with a big, round belly, ruddy cheeks offsetting startlingly white hair, and little round spectacles perched on a button nose. Or maybe it was his jovial manner, as if he was not discussing putting thirty of his freighters at risk by agreeing to transport a rebel army straight through the heart of Alliance territory. Whatever it was, Mal was more than pleased with his first impression of the man.

He soon discovered that the jolly manner hid a sharp intellect and a daring spirit. Jernigan readily helped Mal to coordinate troop evacuations in all the camps, with a punishing schedule that would nonetheless get the job accomplished within the week. As Athens was the only world where there was no general population left with which the troops could blend to avoid detection, it was a priority on the schedule.

"Won't be a problem," Jernigan said. "I can have a few ships there by late afternoon, if your men are ready. Just made a delivery of rail for a train system to Whitefall, so we ain't that far out. Little woman who runs that moon took a notion to go and civilize it."

"With Patience herself owning the railroad, I imagine," Mal said, smiling.

Jernigan grinned. "So, you know Patience, I take it."

"We've had a few…interesting moments," Mal replied.

Jernigan laughed aloud. "Once we get this business squared away and your folks where they're goin', how 'bout we share a pint and you tell me the sordid details."

"If we can get this done, I expect we could handle two pints," Mal said.

Jernigan turned suddenly serious. "Don't you worry over it no more, Captain Reynolds. Movin' things fast from the ass end of the 'verse to the Core worlds and back is what I do all the time. We'll get it handled right enough. Lost me a leg in Dhu Khang, and I ain't willin' to see any of your boys get hurt if they don't gotta. Dong ma?"

Mal nodded his understanding. "We'll be ready when your people get here." Saying his good-byes, he cut the transmission.

Having done all he could to get ships en route to each of the camps, he knew it was time to see to the specific needs of the men and women in the Athens camp. Mounting his horse to ride back to the settlement, he took the time to reflect on everything that had been accomplished in the span of so short a time. Proud of his crew and pleased with friends like Monty who had come through when needed, he considered himself a lucky man.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kaylee watched Simon packing up the medical supplies he intended to return to Serenity for their departure. Eyeing her husband critically, she thought that he did not look as tired and unhappy as he had for the past few months, and she wondered how such a thing could be possible, with all the potential danger in which they found themselves.

Simon glanced up from his task, noting immediately her slight frown. "What's the matter, Kaylee?" he asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no," she replied, offering him a smile. "Nothin' wrong. Just thinkin' 'bout things."

Simon walked the short distance to her and pulled her into his arms. "You mean you've been thinking about babies," he asserted.

Kaylee looked up at him, startled. "No,…well, not right then. I mean to say…"

"It's okay," Simon said. "I just thought that might be what you were thinking about. But if you weren't, well…that's good too."

"Were you?" Kaylee asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Was I what?" Simon asked. "Thinking about babies?"

"Yeah."

"A little bit, perhaps," he admitted.

Kaylee thought for a moment, afraid to break the sudden fragile silence. "What were you thinkin' 'bout 'em?" she asked in an almost timid voice.

She felt the steady rise and fall of Simon's chest against her side, and the deep intake of breath before he answered. "I was thinking that you'd be a wonderful mom," he said softly. "And I was thinkin' about Wash and Zoe."

Kaylee pulled away so she could look at him more clearly. "Wash and Zoe?"

"Yes," Simon said. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Zoe came to me several months before Wash died, asking me if I could examine her to see if she was able to bear children."

Kaylee nodded. "Yeah, we all knew Zoe wanted a baby. That weren't no secret."

"But Wash didn't," Simon said. "Or at least he didn't want one then." He sighed. "And then later, when he died, I remember being sad that Zoe wouldn't have a little piece of Wash to love and care for." He smiled. "Of course, none of us knew then about how Anya would come into our lives. But I think about that, and I think about what a great mother Zoe has turned out to be, and I think about how she almost missed the chance because Wash wasn't ready."

Kaylee's heart began to beat strangely in her chest. "What are you sayin', Simon?"

Simon looked squarely into her beautiful green eyes. "I'm saying that I don't want to make that same mistake just because I've got some issues to work through. I don't want to run the risk of leaving you without giving you everything in my power to give you."

"You ain't gonna leave me, Simon," Kaylee said. "Everything's gonna work out just shiny. You'll see."

"Life's pretty uncertain to be making such statements," Simon chided gently. "But either way, I've decided, if you still want to, that I want to make a baby with you, Kaylee Tam."

Kaylee's smile, always like the sun, shone with the force of a supernova as she jumped into Simon's arms. "I can't believe you want to make a baby right now, with the Alliance coming for us and the soldiers all leaving."

"Well, not right this very minute," Simon said, setting her back on her feet. "I still have to finish packing up these supplies. I don't think the Captain would think too kindly of me stopping right now to …well, you know. But soon, ai ren. Just as soon as I can get you alone somewhere…"

"Waited 'til now," Kaylee grinned. "Guess I can wait a little bit longer."

XXXXXXXXXX

Jernigan's ships arrived on schedule, and Mal made his final speech to the troops. Looking out at their fresh young faces, so full of pride at what they had accomplished and fear of what lay ahead, he was reminded of himself on the eve of the first war for Independence. He thought it all manner of peculiar that the wheel of life had led him full circle to this moment. Glancing over at Zoe, he whispered, "Guess that's it then. Move 'em out."

As Zoe carried through, Mal walked back to the house, hoping to have a little quiet time before he and Jayne had to leave for Osiris. But when he got to the porch, he saw Anya watching the activity in the camp from her perch on the porch railing.

"Hey, blondie," Mal said, moving to stand behind her. "It's a sight, isn't it?"

Anya leaned back against his chest. "I ain't never seen ships so big as that before, least not up close."

"Yes, they're mighty big ones," Mal agreed.

"Captain, Mal, all those people are gonna go on back home now, right?"

"I expect so," Mal replied.

"That's good," Anya declared. "Means we can go back home too, right?"

"Well, you and your Mama, and Miss River and Adam, and Dr. Simon and Miss Kaylee, and Miss Inara are all gonna get on Serenity bright and early tomorrow mornin' and get back to the Black."

Anya frowned. "What about you and Mr. Jayne?"

Mal cleared his throat. "We gotta take care of a few other things, and then we'll catch up to ya'."

Anya was fairly certain she didn't like the sound of that. "You don't take Mr. Jayne with you places less'n you're expectin' trouble."

"That ain't strictly true," Mal answered evasively. "Sometimes I take him when there's heavy liftin' to be done. I ain't one for the heavy liftin' if I can help it." Swinging her down from the railing, he added, "See, like that there. You're getting way too heavy for me to be swingin' you about."

Anya giggled. "Maybe you should try usin' Mr. Jayne's weights," she said. "On accounta' I'm needin' to be swung around right regular."

Mal laughed, ruffling her blonde hair. "I'll think on it, little one. But I make no promises."

XXXXXXXXXX

As dusk settled over the deserted camp, Serenity's crew and the three Academy students watched Jernigan's last freighter take off. Breathing a collective sigh of relief, the small group made their way to the table for the evening meal.

Settling Adam onto his knee, Mal looked around at his exhausted family. "Just want you all to know, I'm obliged to you for the good work you did here. Gave those folks a little better chance that they'd'a had otherwise, and that's not nothing."

"Do you know if the other ships are getting to the camps on schedule?" Zoe asked between mouthfuls.

"I was plannin' on checking that out after supper," Mal replied. "Seeing as how I gave the horses to Jernigan's man as a kind of thanks for the help, I thought I'd just walk out to Serenity before I turn in for the night, and take a look at any waves that are coming in."

"If you can wait until I can get Adam down for the night, I'll walk with you," River said softly.

"Ain't no need to wait," Kaylee offered. "I'll put 'im in bed for ya', if'n you want."

River smiled gratefully, knowing that Kaylee was aware of how difficult it was going to be for her to leave Mal behind in the morning. "Thanks, Kaylee."

While Zoe and Anya handled dish duty and the Tams took Adam, Jayne and Inara slipped quietly upstairs for a few moments alone before their own impending separation.

Mal and River walked out into the cool of the evening hand-in-hand. River lifted her face to the sky, listening to the sound of the birds and crickets in the stillness of the now-deserted camp. Mal drank in the sight of her, the moonlight illuminating her beautiful skin and shining eyes. She turned to look at him, her heart beating faster as she read the thoughts he was making no attempt to hide.

"You're planning to have your wanton way with me, aren't you, Captain Reynolds?" she asked saucily, a slight flush rising from her chest to her cheeks.

"Thought I might, at that," he answered, the low rumble of desire in his voice causing River to tremble with her own need.

Melting into his arms, she whispered against his lips, "I was hoping you would."

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	14. Chapter 14

**Revolution**

**Part XIV—Leave-Taking**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: The rescue mission gets underway, and Serenity heads to a safe haven.

XXXXXXXXXX

Adam clung tightly to Mal's neck, steadfastly refusing to let go despite River's clear command to do so, and Mal's assurances that everything was going to be all right. "You gotta' go with your Mama, little fella," Mal said, finally forcing Adam's arms loose as gently as he could.

"Adam go wif Daddy," he replied, all the Reynolds and Tam stubbornness evident in the jut of his chin.

"No, you can't go with me this time," Mal said. "Gotta go with Mama and look after her for me."

Adam shook his head sorrowfully. "Adam yook after Daddy."

Mal kissed the sweet-smelling skin of his son's cheek. "No, Daddy will be fine. You need to go with Mama now."

Still not content but responding to Mal's firm tone, Adam went into River's outstretched arms. River looked no happier than her son, though she was trying to maintain her composure better. When Mal asked her if she was aware of something he should know that made her so nervous about the trip, she had no clear answer for him, only fleeting glimpses of possible outcomes that did nothing to aid either one of them with their leave-taking.

Saying good-bye to the rest of the crew, Mal and Jayne watched as Serenity rose gracefully out of the clearing and soared into the atmosphere. Mal found himself praying for the safety of his family, though the action confounded him somewhat after spending so long avoiding such a ritual. Mildly embarrassed by his own strange behavior, he cleared his throat. "Well, guess we'd best be headin' out too. No need to stand around waitin' for the Alliance to show up."

Jayne, who had been saying a little prayer of his own, agreed gruffly. "Sure would feel better about this whole thing if we had a gorram clue who's got the Operative."

"Yeah, would make things a mite smoother," Mal said, sighing as he climbed into the small ship left by the Academy students. Taking his seat at the helm, he added, "'Course, I reckon we should just be grateful we found a way off this rock for everybody."

Jayne snorted softly as the ship broke atmo. "Reckon you're right," he said, banging around in the locker units to find a good place to store additional weapons. "Hear any word yet from them other camps?"

"Some," Mal replied. "Looks like everybody's leaving on schedule so far. Anything different happens, they'll wave Serenity and our folks'll pass the news on to us if need be."

Jayne nodded, and the two men sat in silence for a long time, each engrossed in his own thoughts. Osiris was three days away and the route, according to Monty, was strewn with Alliance ships that would need to be avoided. As Jayne had no piloting skills, Mal set the ship on auto-pilot and told his mercenary to take the first watch. Jayne looked at him uneasily. "And what am I supposed to do if'n somethin' happens?" he asked.

Mal gestured to the small cot lying a scant few yards away. "You wake me up," he answered, as if Jayne was a three-year-old. "I 'spect I can get from there to here 'fore we hit somethin'." At Jayne's irritated scowl, he added, "We can't both stay up all three days, and I'm near 'bout worn out already. So, less you got a major outstanding issue, I'll be going to sleep now."

"Nope, nothin' 'cept the fact I can't fly this thing," Jayne answered sarcastically.

Mal rolled his eyes and lay down on the cot, the exhaustion of the past few days sending him immediately into slumber.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next two days passed without incident, as Mal managed to bypass any Alliance ships with minimal trouble. River had waved from Serenity, assuring him that they had reached Hera without incident as well. Mal found it vaguely unsettling that Hera was the safe haven chosen by the Academy students, but he understood the twisted logic behind the choice. From the perspective of the Alliance High Command, the planet that had hosted the cruelest battle of the first war for Independence would likely not be a place where a new Independent Army would be born. And Serenity Valley itself, according to rumor, was still nothing but a ruined landscape. Mal had planned never to revisit the place, except in nightmares beyond his control, but he was eager enough now to be reunited with his family that he would willingly go through hell's gate to get to them if he had to do so.

As he was pondering that, an incoming hail interrupted him. "Unidentified vessel, be advised you are approaching a mandatory Alliance checkpoint. Prepare to dock with cruiser Megellan immediately."

Swearing an imaginative string of Mandarin, Mal called out, "Jayne, best you be getting' up here. We got trouble."

Jayne had heard the Alliance order, and was already strapping on weapons. Glancing back at him, Mal said, "Take 'em off, Jayne, and stow 'em. Talented as you are with Vera, I ain't firmly convinced you can take out an Alliance cruiser with her."

"We ain't gonna just let 'em board us, are we?" Jayne asked incredulously.

"We try to run, they got every reason to blow us to hell and back," Mal replied. "Best bet is to let 'em board and hope the crew's different folk than the ones boarded Serenity when Book was shot. Least that way maybehaps we won't be recognized right away." Still finishing the sentence, he felt the slight shudder of the ship as he maneuvered it into the indicated docking space. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, "Showtime."

XXXXXXXXXX

The last hundred new Independent recruits on Lilac milled about the camp, eagerly awaiting their turn for departure. Most of the men were content with the thought of going back to their home worlds without seeing any action. While the thought of freedom fighting had sounded glamorous when they had first answered the call to congregate, even the most inexperienced of them could see that they were not really equipped to do battle with the Alliance yet. And knowing that enemy troops were on the way made the men more than a little anxious to leave as soon as possible.

The commander of the small group stared at the blank cortex screen, wondering what to do with the information he had just received. John Ferguson had fought in Dhu Khang as an enlisted man, and as the most seasoned soldier in the camp, it had fallen upon his shoulders to oversee the final stage of its evacuation. But he'd just received a wave from the Captain of the Seafarer that the vessel was having mechanical difficulty that had forced it to land on the neighboring moon for repairs, effectively stranding the remaining troops on Lilac for at least several more hours. Ferguson knew of no other ships in the area, so he waved Serenity in hopes of speaking with Captain Reynolds.

To his disappointment, a beautiful dark-skinned woman appeared on the screen instead. Introducing herself as Reynolds' second-in-command, she asked the nature of the problem. Ferguson explained crisply, and the woman consulted someone off-screen briefly before confirming that there were no other ships close enough to offer support. "Anywhere you can go dirtside to avoid detection?" she asked.

Ferguson shook his head. "Nearest settlement's a day away on foot. If we made it there, we wouldn't be able to get back in time to rendezvous with the Seafarer, if her Captain's estimate on repair time is correct."

Zoe sighed, wishing Mal was there. "Stay put. I'll put in a wave to Captain Reynolds and talk to you soon."

"Yes ma'am," Ferguson replied, praying Reynolds knew something that would help his people.

XXXXXXXXXX

Zoe sat on Serenity's bridge, fighting the unaccustomed urge to pace the floor. She had waved Mal immediately after hearing about the situation on Lilac, but had so far received no response. Contacting the captain of the Seafarer, she had been assured that the repairs were progressing according to schedule. So, she did the only thing that seemed an option at the moment, contacting Ferguson to tell him to keep his men alert and ready for transport at the earliest opportunity.

It did not escape Zoe's notice that life had seemingly brought her full circle, back to Hera anxiously awaiting Malcolm Reynolds' next command. When the second hour had come and gone since her first wave, she tried again to reach Mal and Jayne. Once again, there was no response. Knowing this could only mean trouble for her best friend, Zoe was filled with dread.

River padded up silently behind her, taking her seat in the co-pilot's chair. She did not need her abilities as a Reader to see the waves of tension emanating from the older woman. "Not dead," she said, breaking the oppressive silence.

"You know that for a fact?" Zoe asked, her voice deceptively calm.

"Yes," River said. "Can feel him." She tilted her head, listening intently to something only she could hear. "Worried, but not hurt. Anxious, annoyed."

Zoe's lips canted in an almost-smile. "That pretty much sums up the usual way of it."

River frowned. "Can't make out more than that. Don't know what's happened."

"Long's you know he's still breathin', that's a good thing," Zoe said.

"Yes," River replied. "It is."

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson glared at the scientists as they finished their status report. "His mental defenses are quite formidable, sir," one of them whined. "He was a trained Operative of Parliament, after all."

"I wasn't aware that Operatives are trained to withstand mental manipulation particularly," Thompson said icily.

"Well, they're not, exactly," the first scientist explained. "But they are chosen as Operatives based on a certain psychological profile. And we believe this might account for our inability to achieve some of the more difficult of your goals with regard to his behavioral modifications."

"Then, push harder," Thompson said.

"If we push any harder, he may just shut down completely," the second scientist said.

"You mean, die?" Thompson asked.

"No," replied the man. "We mean, he may shut down psychologically. He's virtually catatonic as it is. His reactions are becoming more and more difficult to register. If we go deeper, you may end up with a mental vegetable on your hands."

Thompson gritted his teeth in irritation, longing to wrap his long fingers around their throats and squeeze until the blood vessels in their eyes burst into a pretty shade of red. Tamping down the sudden pleasure such a mental image provided him, he said, "Then what do you suggest, gentlemen? How do we proceed at this point?"

"We'll continue to chip away at his defenses slowly, with your permission of course. He can still be controlled, given enough time. We feel he can still be of use to you, if you'll grant us leave to continue."

"Do it," Thompson said. "I suppose I can wait a little longer. And the results had better be worth my time."

As he swept out of the lab, the scientists looked at each other, both genuinely terrified to think of what their new employer might be capable of should they fail.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

**Revolution**

**Part XV—Battleground**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal is detained on the Alliance cruiser, and things go badly on Lilac.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal sat in a standard interrogation room on the Alliance cruiser Magellan, trying to hold on to the last shred of patience he had. "You know, no matter how many times you ask me the same question," he said as pleasantly as he could manage, "I'll answer it the same way."

"Captain Harbatkin, I would advise you to keep a civil tongue during this interview."

Mal stared at the Alliance officer, fairly stunned by the remark. If the hundan had the slightest notion of what he was really thinking….

The officer continued. "In case you were unaware, we are currently in a state of high alert. The Alliance has a duty and responsibility to provide protection for the good people in this quadrant, and I have to be fairly suspicious of a man who claims to be going to Osiris for pleasure, but has enough weaponry on his vessel to arm a large group of insurrectionists."

Mal made a show of sighing heavily. "It's as I told you. Me and my man have come all the way from the Rim right by ourselves. Don't know if you've had occasion to be on any of them worlds, but there's a load of dangerous folk on 'em and we needed protection. Can't blame a man for tryin' to stay alive, now can ya'?"

"And what exactly are you planning to do for 'pleasure' on Osiris?" the officer asked.

"Heard tell Osiris has some of the best gaming facilities in the Core. Aimin' to try my hand at the tables, maybe pick up a little coin to line my pockets. Ain't any law against that, is there?"

Ignoring the question, the officer continued. "If that's the case, why didn't your man corroborate your story?"

For just a moment, Mal wondered what kind of story Jayne had concocted. Then, remembering it was Jayne, he said, "If I had to guess I'd imagine he ain't said a word either way."

Something in the officer's expression confirmed it for him. So, Mal continued easily, "He ain't much for talkin' on most days. Got a little problem in the brainpan. Can't hardly string two words together most the time, but he's strong as an ox and right intimidatin' to look at, so I keep him around. The quiet don't bother me none."

The officer sighed, irritated by the uneducated speech pattern of the man in front of him. Still, something in the man's demeanor gave him reason to believe he was dealing with a dangerous man, but technically, everything the detainee had said seemed likely enough to be true. In the four hours he'd been there, Captain Harbatkin had deviated not one iota from his original statement, and his simpleton companion had said nothing at all. Well aware of the five other ships awaiting processing, the officer made his decision.

"I'm sending word to the Alliance garrison on Osiris about your arrival there. Rest assured, Captain, they will be observing your activities carefully."

"So, I'm free to go?" Mal asked, singularly unimpressed with the threat.

"Yes," the officer said, "as soon as the paperwork is processed." Turning on his heel, he left the interrogation room, annoyed to have wasted half his day on such space trash.

XXXXXXXXXX

John Ferguson lay in the dust of Lilac, contributing the last of his life's blood to the Independent cause. He marveled at the silence around him. Less than an hour ago, he thought dimly, the air had been filled with the high-pitched whine of the Alliance warship breaking atmo, raining down a barrage of firepower well beyond the tiny camp's ability to withstand. His own voice shouting orders that the other soldiers could scarcely hear amid the explosions around them and the screams of the wounded had created a cacophony of noise so horrific in its intensity that he thought he could not bear it. But somehow, the memory of it now was less obscene than the silence in which he lay dying.

Mustering up the strength to turn his head slightly, he could see through a hazy red mist Alliance soldiers walking casually through the camp, assessing the people strewn haphazardly on the ground. He watched, horrified to see that they had no interest in taking prisoners, dispatching those they found alive with silent precision. Ferguson closed his eyes, unwilling to spend his last moments watching Death strolling toward him in an Alliance uniform.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal detached the small vessel from Magellan, breathing out a sigh of relief. He set the ship back on course for Osiris and, leaning back in the pilot's chair, waved Serenity.

Zoe's face appeared on the screen, and Mal was instantly alarmed. Anyone else looking at her would have thought she was merely bored, but long years of reading her face told Mal that something was terribly wrong.

"You all right, sir?" she asked by way of a greeting.

"Shiny," Mal answered shortly. "What's happened?"

Zoe made no pretense of misunderstanding the question. "It's the last of the men on Lilac, sir. The Seafarer missed the pickup because of mechanical problems. Delayed several hours for repairs. No other ships close enough by to be of any use."

"And?" Mal asked, his throat suddenly uncomfortably tight.

Zoe blinked once, and replied, "Just got a call from the Seafarer. When it arrived at the rendezvous point, the Alliance had already come and gone. According to the Captain, no one was left alive."

"There were one hundred and three men down there," Mal said hoarsely.

"I believe so, sir," came Zoe's stoic reply.

"And the Captain's sure they're all accounted for?"

"His crew's buryin' 'em right now," Zoe said. "Figured it was the least they could do, seein' as how the Alliance troops just left 'em layin' in the dirt."

Mal clenched his jaw, remembering all too well similar scenes from the war. "He say whether he needs anything?"

"No sir," Zoe answered. "Said he'd see to it they were buried proper-like." She paused for a moment. "Though he might be needful of some words from you. He was torn up plenty. Blamin' himself for bein' too late to get 'em out."

"I'll talk to him," Mal said grimly. "You okay, Zoe?"

"Still breathin'," Zoe replied, her face a blank mask.

"Yeah, well, see that you keep doin' that," Mal answered, years of friendship with this woman warming his tone.

"You too," Zoe said, cutting the transmission.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson stood on the steps of the building where Senator Landry's professed murderer was being tried. Affecting his most benignly concerned expression, he spoke to the gathered press representatives. Earnestly pleading his case for justice for the Senator, he spoke eloquently for an end to the governmental abuses that had spawned such insurrection in it beleaguered citizenry. Unveiling his plan for a new political party, he appeared to be sincerely dedicated to providing a peaceful alternative to bloody revolution.

Mal and Jayne watched the speech on the cortex, as it was the latest news story coming out of Osiris. Their mood was somber.

"You think this guy's got any sorta chance to stop a war after what happened to them folks on Lilac today?" Jayne asked.

"No reports on the news about Lilac," Mal observed. "I 'spect nobody's gonna know about it at all less it serves some purpose to the hundans somehow."

"Don't seem right," Jayne said. "Just goin' in like that and murderin' 'em outright."

"Reckon it ain't got to be right if they got the power to do it," Mal said bitterly. "I haven't noticed a burning desire to do what's right to be a big priority with them. They ain't as concerned about that as this Thompson guy seems to be."

Jayne snorted. "Ain't too sure 'bout him neither. Every time I see 'im onscreen, he's got that ching wah tsao duh liou mahng Chau with 'im. Don't fill me with confidence in his upright nature."

Mal nodded, having had a similar thought himself. "Well, Chau is rich enough, and every new political movement needs a pile of coin."

As he spoke, Mal wrestled with the yoke of the small craft, setting it down carefully on the Osiris dock. Night-time landings were always a mite trickier, he thought, blinded briefly by the bright lights lining the landing area.

"Well, "Jayne said, changing the earlier topic. "Where do we start lookin?"

"More like 'when'," Mal said, abruptly exhausted by the emotional hits the Alliance had managed to inflict on him for one day. "I figure the morning's time enough. A decent night's sleep might make for an easier time of it tomorrow."

Jayne nodded shortly and, laying Vera beside his pillow, he settled in for the night.

XXXXXXXXXX

Inara awoke with a start, cold sweat trickling down between her heaving breasts. The disturbing visage of Andrew Chau slowly faded from her mind, mercifully replaced by the comforting furnishings of her own shuttle. She sat for a time, drawing the blanket closer around her shoulders as she tried to calm her breathing. She thought she had conquered such nightmares months ago, but seeing Chau standing beside Thompson on the cortex had triggered them again.

Longing for the warmth and comfort of Jayne in her bed, she lay back down, curling her body into the pillows. How the man had managed to become so essential to her was a puzzle she had no wish to decipher, but she knew with shocking clarity that she needed and wanted him in her life. What she felt for Jayne defied all logic, but it was real and visceral nonetheless. And this was the other source of her disturbed sleep. She knew that whoever had managed to ensnare the Operative was a formidable enemy indeed, and she was very concerned about Mal and Jayne facing such an enemy alone. She had no doubt in Jayne's abilities, but still she found herself reciting prayers in his behalf, much as she had once done for Mal. She wondered fleetingly if this was how River felt when Mal went on a job without her, but knew she would never have the nerve to ask her. Staring into the darkness of the shuttle, she tried to meditate herself into at least a semblance of calm.

XXXXXXXXXX

River rocked Adam slowly back to sleep. He had awakened three times during the night, calling out fretfully for his father. Each time, something in the little boy's manner had caused River to dip into his thoughts, searching for the cause of his distress. And though she could discern no clear reason for it, she was alarmed by it somehow.

As he relaxed back into slumber, she focused her abilities in another direction, questing for Mal's mind. After a few moments, she felt her husband, a strong, familiar presence. Reaching further, she felt the new weight of sorrow settling into his heart, fresh guilt for the lives lost on Lilac. Aching with the shared emotion, she closed her eyes against the intensity of it, and laid Adam back into bed. Curling up beside him, she stared into the darkness of the room, unable to sleep for the echo of the screams of the men and women on Lilac reverberating in her head.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

**Revolution**

**Part XVI—The Search**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal and Jayne have some difficulty in their search for the Operative, and the remaining leader of the Underground Movement has a task of his own to perform.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal was becoming increasingly worried. He and Jayne had been on Osiris for three days and other than an annoying visit from an officer of the local Alliance garrison in the middle of the night, nothing of note had happened. They spent each day checking out what they could about any businessman wealthy enough to finance half an air fleet, and every night in taverns and gaming establishments, listening to the drunken conversations of various criminal types in hopes of hearing something that would give them a clue as to the Operative's whereabouts.

And so Mal sat in yet another smoky bar, nursing a drink and making desultory conversation with a lowlife who had proudly declared he worked for the richest man on Osiris. Mal was becoming impatient with the man's ramblings, and he was fast running out of coin, having purchased the idiot's last six drinks.

Jayne glanced at him from across the room, stuck with his own table of inebriated talkers. Thinking idly that Jayne looked a little too relaxed for his peace of mind, Mal was surprised when the man beside him started to cry. Controlling his desire to slap the man senseless, Mal turned his attention back to his task.

"Best gorram friend a man could have," the man sobbed, dribbling whiskey and spittle down his chin. "And that guy just…" He tried unsuccessfully to snap his fingers together. "Just took him out like he was a little girl with pigtails."

Mal took a sip of his drink. "Yeah, sounds like a real shame."

"It was. It was," the man confirmed, head wobbling up and down. "Been on my crew near about four years. And ya' know what the real sad thing is?' He looked up at Mal with watery eyes.

"What's that?" Mal asked.

"We coulda' took him down easy as spittin', but the Boss wanted him alive for some eerie-ass reason. Ended up takin' out three of the others too, 'fore we got him handled."

Mal shook his head, commiserating with the man. "Sounds like a real tough customer."

The drunkard nodded. "Smoothest fighter I ever seen. All quick moves and cold heart. Figure he musta' been trained by someone knew what they was doin'."

"What'd he look like?" Mal asked casually.

"Tall, dark-skinned, not as strong-looking as he turned out to be," the man said. Pausing as if trying to remember his thought, he added, "Know the weirdest thing?'

"What?"

"His face. Standin' in a room full of armed men, and right 'fore he started twirlin' and kickin' and hittin', he looked just as calm as a cat with a mouse to play with."

Mal nodded, sure now that he had the right man. "It's a right wonder your boss didn't let you kill 'im, after he took out your friend like that."

At the mention of his friend, the drunkard began to cry again. "Wouldn't let us finish 'im," he said mournfully. "'Course, Mr. Thompson, he did all right by Joe's family afterwards though. Paid for the burial and all. Did that for the others too. Right decent of him, if you ask me." He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "You lookin' for work? Joe ain't been replaced yet."

"No, I think not," Mal said. "Already got me a job. I'm just passin' through." Laying some coin on the table, he added, "I gotta go, but you're welcome to have another round for Joe, if you wanna."

The man rose unsteadily to his feet. "It's been a real treat to meet ya'," he said, trying to coordinate a hand shake and failing dismally. "I'm obliged to ya' for the drinks and the listenin' ear."

"No problem," Mal said heartily. "Nice to meet you too." And catching Jayne's eye, he walked out into the fresh night air.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Sorry to wake you, bao bei," Mal said, drinking in the sight of River's face on the screen.

"Wasn't sleeping," she answered. "Miss you."

"I miss you too, darlin'," Mal said. "I need you to do somethin' for me. I assume you've seen that guy Thompson on the news."

"Yes," River replied. "I've seen him."

"What do you think of him?" Mal asked.

River looked at him quizzically. "You mean, have I read him?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess that is what I mean."

"No," River said. "Not really. Know he's lying, but that's not unusual for a man talking to the press."

"Lying about what?"

"Don't know," River said, shrugging. "Nothing clear. Just a feeling. Why do you ask?"

Mal explained the information he had acquired. When he finished, he paused for a moment and added, "So, we've already checked out the security at his home and offices, being as how I can't think of a compelling reason for him to let us walk through the front door and look around. Plus, I figure if he's our man, he may already know who we are. Best he don't see us comin', I conjure. Think you and Kaylee could find out where the weakness in the security system might be?"

River nodded. "I'll wave when we find it."

"Thanks, darlin'," Mal said. "Adam asleep?"

"Just barely," River answered. "He hasn't been sleeping well since you've been gone."

Knowing he didn't want to think about precisely why that was, Mal said, "Well, kiss him for me and tell him Daddy's coming home soon."

XXXXXXXXXX

Simon stuck his head into the engine room, where Kaylee lay on her back banging tools angrily about under the engine.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked.

Kaylee kept banging, frustrated beyond reason. "No, it ain't," she said. "Cap'n and Jayne's dependin' on me to find 'em a way in to where they think the Operative might be, and I ain't got no clue how to gum up the security system for 'em. Ain't never seen one with so many backups before. And River couldn't do no better. We been workin' on it all the morning. She's off tellin' the Cap'n the bad news right now."

Simon leaned down to peer under the engine. "I'm sure you did the best you can, Kaylee. Mal doesn't expect you to know everything."

Kaylee looked at her husband darkly. "I ain't so sure about that."

Simon smiled. "Well, if he comes back and gives you any trouble, he'll have to deal with me."

Kaylee smiled despite her aggravation. "Do I get to watch?"

"Watch?" Simon said, grinning. "While I distract him, I expect you to sneak up behind him with a wrench or something."

Pulling her out by her ankles, he helped her up. "I'm sure River will explain it satisfactorily to him. And then, he and Jayne will find another way. Mal is fairly determined, I've noticed. He'll come up with something."

Kaylee hugged Simon tightly, getting grease on his crisp, white shirt. "It's just I hate it when I let him down, you know?"

"I know, ai ren," Simon replied. "And he knows too. That's why you never can really let him down." Kissing the top of her head, he said, "Now come to lunch. Zoe said to tell you her stew isn't going to taste any better than it does right now."

Kaylee grimaced at the thought. Wiping her hands off, she said, "Why don't she just let Anya season it, I wonder?"

XXXXXXXXXX

James Chin had a headache. And it was not the kind that required only a little pill to go away, but rather the kind that made him want to curl into a fetal position and whimper in a darkened room somewhere. Since his best friend and co-worker had confessed to the murder of Senator Landry, he was troublingly disoriented. He could have sworn he had been with him on the night Landry was murdered, but he realized that could not have been true. And the more he tried to decipher the mystery, the more his head seemed to hurt.

He wanted nothing more than to rest, but he felt strangely compelled to finish his current task of contacting each of the scattered members of the Underground Movement to arrange a meeting in one of the empty warehouses by the docks for the next night. The thought had occurred to him rather abruptly earlier in the day that this was a necessary arrangement, though he was vaguely puzzled as to why he felt such an urgency. He supposed it was perhaps due to his natural compulsive need for organization, the same need that had led him to agree to shoulder the responsibility of leadership of the group in its infancy. Thinking sadly that it would be a somber meeting with the three Academy students still missing, and the co-founder of the Movement standing trial for murder, Chin made his last contact. Once the job was completed, he noticed that the vise-like pressure in his head eased slightly. Lying down gingerly, he fell into a troubled sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal and Jayne mingled among the people in the periphery of the crowd gathered around Jared Thompson. Having found no reasonable way to access his estate or his offices, they had to settle for tailing the man himself in hopes of seeing an opportunity to breech his defenses.

As Mal listened with one ear to the rhetoric Thompson was spouting so smoothly, he thought about what they had seen so far. Though Thompson was currently denouncing the government for its strong-arm tactics, Mal wondered what the crowd would think if they knew Thompson had just come from a clandestine meeting with an officer at the Alliance garrison. Wishing he and Jayne had been close enough to hear, Mal puzzled over the possible purpose of the meeting. Maybehaps he'd find out more about that as they followed the man, he thought.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as Thompson ended his speech, turning to clap Andrew Chau on the shoulder in a show of solidarity.

Mal saw Jayne's jaw tighten at the sight. "Thick as thieves, ain't they?" Jayne whispered in disgust.

"Yeah," Mal said, suddenly struck by an idea. "Seems like they're a regular pair of lovebirds." He paused for a beat. "As I recall, Chau didn't have too much in the way of security at his estate on Persephone."

Jayne looked at Mal speculatively. "No, I seem to remember walkin' right up to the front door and knockin'."

Mal nodded, a twinkle in his eye. "That's the way I remember it too. Reckon he's got better security here?"

"Only one way to find out," Jayne said, grinning.

"Then, I'd say we need to pay us a little visit to our old friend. Maybehaps we can even persuade him to invite his new playmate over."

"'Magine that might could be a lot of fun," Jayne agreed, inordinately pleased with the thought of encountering Chau again in a violent manner.

XXXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

**Revolution**

**Part XVII—Chain Reaction**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal and Jayne have a talk with Chau, and the evening's events are set into motion.

XXXXXXXXX

"What's the matter, baby?" River asked, picking Adam up and settling him in her lap.

"Daddy," Adam replied tearfully.

River's heart rate instantly increased. "What about Daddy?" she asked as calmly as she could.

"Daddy needs Mama," he said insistently, fixing her with his impossibly blue eyes. "Mama go help Daddy now."

"Adam, is Daddy in trouble?" River asked.

The child looked at her solemnly, nodding his head. Quickly slipping into his mind, she saw what he had seen. She flipped the ship-wide comm. on. "Zoe, I need you on the bridge. Now."

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson listened to the report from his most trusted employee. Pleased to learn that Chin had performed as expected when he had been triggered, Thompson listened with pleasure to the details from the thin-lipped man.

"So, it's safe to say that the rest of the members of the Movement will be gathered at the warehouse tonight?" he asked, almost gleefully.

The thin-lipped man nodded his affirmation.

"Excellent," Thompson said. "The commander of the garrison has been briefed already. Our little revolutionaries will find the meeting rather more interesting than they think."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal and Jayne followed Chau for the rest of the day, leaving Thompson to his own devices. It became apparent to Mal as the day progressed exactly how useful to Thompson Chau was. Not only must he be providing a large sum of cashy money to Thompson's cause, but Chau was also apparently actively procuring endorsements from other prominent businessmen. In the time they'd been following him, he had met with no less than twenty of such men, ingratiating himself to them as he went. It was fairly creepifying to watch, Mal thought, but more importantly, it was making it impossible to get to the hundan without a fuss.

Jayne was getting impatient. "Why don't we just grab him off the street?" he asked. "Ain't like he'll put up a fight."

"No," Mal replied. "But the local Feds might, when whoever he happens to be with at the time starts yelling for help. We've waited this long. Best we wait a little longer. He's bound to go home sometime."

XXXXXXXXXX

James Chin rubbed his temples absently, a gesture that was second nature to him now. Making a mental note to call the doctor if his headache was no better by tomorrow, he looked blankly into his closet. He stood for several minutes, trying to remember why he had opened the closet door. Then, it came to him. Quickly choosing a dark shirt and black pants, he dressed in the dim light of his room. Figuring that the dark clothes would serve his clandestine purpose well, he left his small apartment and headed toward the docks. He didn't want to be late for the meeting he had called. Hoping to arrive in time to be sure everything was in order, he picked up his pace.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson smiled with satisfaction. "I had planned to be elsewhere this evening," he said to the scientist on the screen, "but if you feel confident that you're that close to a breakthrough with our subject, I'll be there."

"Yes, sir," the man replied proudly. "We've seen significant signs of progress today. I believe it could be as early as tonight that he will be…highly susceptible to your input."

"That's fine," Thompson said. 'I'll be there within the next couple of hours. There are some things I need to do first."

"Of course," the scientist agreed. "We'll have him ready when you arrive."

XXXXXXXXXX

Andrew Chau settled back in his chair by the fire, glad to be alone for the evening. Though the man-servant he had here was almost as well-trained at Cerril on Perspehone, he was not as comforting a presence. So, Chau had given him the night off, preferring the absolute quiet of the house after the hectic day he'd had. It had been quite some years since he had so actively pursued the company of others, but Thompson was insistent that he use his social connections to garner support for their fledgling political party. And, he thought smugly, Thompson was sure to be pleased with the progress he'd made today in that direction.

Hearing a faint noise behind him, he leaned around the arm of his chair to see a sight he'd hoped to never see again.

"Might need to see to fixin' that lock on your side door," Mal said conversationally. "You never know who might decide to walk right on in." He sat down in the other chair by the fire, smiling calmly.

More troubling to Chau was the large man who'd broken his arms before leaning casually against the mantelpiece. "Wh…what are you doing here?" Chau stammered.

"Been seeing you out and about," Mal said. "Thought we'd drop by and get you to introduce us to your new friend."

Chau frowned, tiny beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and upper lip. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Mal leaned forward suddenly, his smile replaced by a look that made Chau's mouth go dry. "I know you ain't exactly the brightest bulb in the pack, but I woulda' thought you'd have learned from our earlier visit together that I ain't the most patient of men. Your sorry excuse for a face has been plastered all over the cortex with your new buddy, Jared Thompson. We got an interest in meeting with him, and you're gonna arrange it. Dong ma?"

Chau turned pale at the thought. "I…I can't arrange a meeting with him for you." Seeing the large man shift slightly, he added quickly, "He's not…the kind of man who comes when I call. It's more like…"

"You come when he calls," Mal finished for him.

"Yes," Chau said, embarrassed by the admission.

"Well, now," Mal said. "That presents a little problem. You see, we ain't leavin' 'til we got us a way to see Thompson. And the longer we have to wait, the more annoyed Jayne here gets. I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen. That kinda' thing generally leads to all manner of unpleasantness."

Chau licked his lips nervously, unconsciously rubbing the spot where Jayne had broken one of his arms. "If I set up a meeting like that, he'd have me killed," he whined.

"And what do you conjure will be happening to you if you don't?" Mal asked, his voice a low growl and his eyes shining like lasers.

"All right," Chau said, the last of his resolve crumbling completely. "I'll call him."

Mal nodded briefly, and Jayne moved to Chau's side. With trembling knees, Chau led to way to his study and called Thompson's offices. Getting only one of the night watchmen, Chau asked to be transferred to Thompson directly.

"Sorry, Mr. Chau. Mr. Thompson had left for the day. You might try him at home."

Chau called Thompson's home, praying that the man would be there. One of the household staff answered.

"I need to speak with Mr. Thompson," Chau said as authoritatively as he could muster with Captain Reynolds and his thug staring daggers at him. "It's a matter of some urgency."

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Thompson is not here at the moment. Perhaps I could take a message."

Seeing Jayne remove his knife from its scabbard, Chau said quickly, "Do you have any idea as to where I might find him?"

The woman hesitated, torn between Thompson's standard rule about revealing any personal information and her own knowledge that Chau was a frequent guest in Thompson's home.

"Please," Chau said. "It is imperative that I speak with him immediately."

"I believe he left word that he would be at your laboratories," she answered finally. "Perhaps you could find him there."

"Thank you," Chau said, relieved when Jayne returned his knife to its sheath. He reached to make another call, but Mal's hand closed over his in a crushing grip.

"Who're you thinkin' to call now?" he asked, his voice frighteningly calm.

"I was just going to call the lab to confirm he's there," Chau said uneasily.

"How far is the lab from here?" Mal asked.

"Ten minutes by hover," Chau said.

"Then we'll just pay him a visit instead," Mal said, hauling Chau to his feet.

Chau tried to twist away. "Surely you don't expect me to.."

Mal jerked him forward, causing him to stumble. "Yes, we do."

XXXXXXXXXX

The commander of the Alliance garrison on Osiris glanced at the chronometer on the wall. Eager to get on with the events planned for the evening, he had to rein in his enthusiasm. After all, he reminded himself, he didn't want to break up the meeting of the insurrectionists before they'd all managed to get there. He couldn't believe his luck in having such a career-boosting opportunity at the behest of a man who, by all appearances, had no great love for the Alliance. But oddly enough, he trusted Thompson now, having been given enough reason to do so by several smaller tips the man had provided.

The commander was a simple man, interested only in his own advancement. So, he spent little time trying to decipher the motives of his unlikely benefactor, and instead focused on how to parlay tonight's sure success into a promotion. He had no wish to stay on as commander of the garrison forever, and envisioned leading a much larger group of men, perhaps even at Central Headquarters for the sector. Thus entranced with visions of grandeur, he passed the time until he could assemble his strike force.

XXXXXXXXXX

Arranging Chau snugly between them, Mal and Jayne sat in the hovercraft. Fiddling with the switches for a moment to see how it worked, Mal asked, "What is it Thompson is doing in your labs?"

Chau shook his head. "I don't know," he answered.

Jayne's hand bit into his shoulder painfully.

"I swear, I really don't," he whimpered. "Thompson just…took them over and told me to stay away."

Mal nodded, finding the switch that brought the hovercraft to life. "Guess we'll all find out together then," he said, maneuvering the craft out of its bay. "Now, which way?"

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

**Revolution**

**Part XVIII—Chau Enterprises**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Mal and Jayne get to the lab, and things quickly go south.

XXXXXXXXXX

Zoe popped her head briefly into the engine room. "Everything shiny in here, Kaylee?"

Kaylee nodded, her fast fingers working all the while. "Will be by the time you get back. Just a little burnt wiring from the full burn."

"Just so she's ready to go quick-like," Zoe called out, moving on down the corridor.

XXXXXXXXXX

The three Academy students pressed in the security access codes for their vessel and stepped inside, while Zoe and River waited anxiously on the dock. In a moment, Mei Ling appeared at the ramp. "They're not here. And there's nothing to indicate where they might have gone."

Zoe gave a small grunt of frustration, as Peter and John joined the small group. "You tellin' me that four Readers can't find a man who can't be more'n a few clicks away?" she asked.

River concentrated carefully, sifting through the mental images racing through her head. She knew that she had a better chance of finding her ai ren than any of the others. Unlike the common misconception, being a Reader was not some sort of magical window into the future, and having an intimate mental connection with Mal made it much more likely that she could find him.

"A lab," she said after a few minutes. "Chau Enterprises."

"Did you say 'Chau Enterprises'?" Zoe asked.

"Yes," River said, giving her an exasperated look. "Let's go."

As the group walked rapidly across the docks toward the city, Peter's steps suddenly faltered. "Wait," he said. "There's something…"He tilted his head, looking eerily like River did when she was reading someone. He turned quickly to John and Mei Ling. "Do you feel it? They're here."

"Who?" Zoe asked, her hand ghosting along her Mare's Leg.

"Our people," Peter answered. "The others in the Underground Movement. They're somewhere close by, in one of these buildings."

"Well, that's just fine, but we ain't got time to look to them right now," Zoe said, walking on.

"You don't understand," Mei Ling said. "They're in danger."

River put an end to the discussion. "It's all right. Go. See to them. Zoe and I will find Mal."

Zoe started to protest, but River shook her head. "They're needed elsewhere," she said firmly. "And we need to hurry."

As the three Academy students began to search the buildings along the dock, Zoe and River melted silently into the night, heading for Chau Enterprises.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thompson leaned forward expectantly, waiting for some indication of a response from the Operative. Getting none, he turned angrily to the two scientists. "I thought you said there had been progress. It seems to me he is exactly as he has been. I see no evidence of a response."

"There's more neural activity," one of the scientists explained nervously. "I'm certain he'll be responding in a demonstrable way before the night is over."

"And I'm supposed to stand here and watch you poke needles into him until he reacts?" Thompson asked.

"We just…well, we didn't want you to…"

The scientist was abruptly interrupted by the sound of gunfire in the corridor. Thompson's thin-lipped bodyguard rushed to the door, opening it to peer out into the darkened hallway. There was the sound of a small pop, and he fell face forward, his body half in and half out the door.

Momentarily stunned, Thompson quickly recovered and drew his own weapon, jerking one of the scientists in front of him for cover. Pressing the small button on his ring to alert his private security force, he awaited the intruders.

In a moment, the body of his guard was dragged unceremoniously out the door, and Andrew Chau entered, shaking like a leaf in a high wind. "Jared, please, I didn't…," he began, only to be silenced by the placement of Jayne's gun behind his ear.

"Well, Andrew," Thompson said smoothly. "I see you've brought me some company. I thought I'd made it clear that I would see to your little problem with Captain Reynolds later, but I suppose there's no time like the present."

If Mal was startled to be recognized, he gave no sign of it. Taking in the entire scene before him, he advanced into the room. Holding his gun steadily on Thompson, he moved to stand beside the prone Operative. "Can you hear me?" he asked, detaching the Operative from the instruments. Receiving no answer, he turned to Thompson. 'What have you done to him?"

"Not nearly as much as I intend to do," Thompson replied calmly.

"You," Mal said, gesturing with the barrel of his gun to the scientist not ensnared by Thompson, "wake him up."

"I…I don't think I can do that," the scientist said nervously. "He's been…nonresponsive for several days. But maybe I could…"

As he reached to touch the Operative, a single shot rang out, and the scientist slumped onto the floor.

"Why exactly did you just kill your own man?" Mal asked.

Thompson smiled. "He ceased to be 'my man' when he obeyed you."

"Mal," Jayne said, a hint of urgency in his voice, "Looks like we got company comin'."

"Yes," Thompson said, smiling broadly. "That would be my real men, Captain Reynolds."

He moved toward the door, careful to keep the scientist between him and the guns Mal and Jayne were pointing.

Pulling the Operative roughly off the table, Mal said simply, "Jayne."

"I'm on it," Jayne replied, ducking into the corridor to assess the situation. Instantly, multiple shots rang out.

"You still with me, Jayne?" Mal said.

"Yeah, still here," Jayne replied, firing some shots of his own. "Piss poor aim they got, so far."

"Good to know." Mal replied, still staring at Thompson. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chau sneaking toward the door. Aiming at his kneecap, Mal fired once, and Chau fell to the floor with a strangled cry.

Thompson took the moment of distraction to shoot toward Mal. Catching him high in the right shoulder, the bullet spun Mal about and Thompson ran into the hallway, throwing the scientist into the crouching Jayne, and causing the two men to end up in a scrambling heap of arms and legs.

Mal swore loudly, pulling his arm protectively to his side. "Now'd be a fine time to wake up," he said to the inert Operative. "Might have a little trouble gettin' you out with one arm, and shootin' with my left hand."

The sound of gunfire in the hallway let him know that Jayne was still fighting. Propping the Operative up against the wall, Mal tried slapping him to bring him around. Thinking that he'd wanted to do that for a long time, he was momentarily tempted to do it again when he saw the man's eyes flutter open.

"Welcome back," he said wryly.

The Operative blinked rapidly. "What…where are we?"

"Long story," Mal said. "Think you can stand?"

The Operative nodded, causing his head to spin dizzyingly. "Well, perhaps not right now," he amended.

"Sooner would be better than later," Mal replied. "Jayne's holdin' 'em off for now, but he'll be needin' backup." As he spoke, he realized the corridor had gone eerily silent. Cursing, he rose to his feet, suddenly dizzy from his own blood loss. Moving as steadily as he could, he came to a stop at the open door and leaned carefully on the door jamb for support. Holding his gun awkwardly with his left hand, he took a deep breath and ducked into the corridor.

Jayen came walking toward him, grinning like a Cheshire cat, flanked on either side by Zoe and River.

"I'm hopin' I ain't dead or dreamin'," Mal said as River ran to enfold him in her arms.

"Not dead, ai ren," she said happily, making him wince as she probed the wound in his shoulder. "And I'm no dream."

"Beg to differ with you on that last part, darlin'," Mal said woozily. "Not that I ain't grateful, but why're you here? How'd you know to come?"

"Adam told me," River answered as Mal lost consciousness.

XXXXXXXXX

Jayne persuaded the women to take Mal and the Operative back to the ship without him, claiming that there wasn't room enough for everyone to ride. "Ill catch up to ya'," he said. "Ain't nothing wrong with my legs. Just don't take off without me."

Eager to get both men back to Simon, Zoe agreed, leaving Jayne standing outside the lab. As soon as the hover disappeared from view, Jayne sauntered back into the building to finish what he'd started months ago. Stepping over the bodies of Thompson and his men, Jayne followed the trail of blood to where Chau was crawling away, clutching his shattered kneecap.

"Plannin' on goin' somewhere?" he asked casually, kicking at Chau's injured leg.

Chau screamed in agony. Allowing him to catch his breath, Jayne continued. "You see, we ain't quite done here, in my way of thinkin'."

Chau gasped in pain and fear. "I did what your Captain wanted. I brought you to Thompson."

"Yup, sure did," Jayne agreed amiably. "And that's why Mal didn't kill ya'." Leaning down close to the cowering man's face, he added, "But I ain't Mal. And my business with you ain't done yet."

"Why…what…?" Chau asked, terror making him unable to speak clearly.

"You remember the Companion you took?" Jayne said, his voice suddenly chillingly soft.

Chau stammered. "Sh….sh…she was nothing but a high priced whore. Why should it matter to you?"

Jayne's face became hard as granite. "That 'whore' is my woman," he hissed, drawing his blade from his sheath.

Chau began to cry. "I didn't know she was yours. I wouldn't have…"

Jayne flicked the blade swiftly across the back of Chau's hand, drawing blood. "You ain't gettin' the point. If'n she weren't mine, wouldn't matter. Ain't no woman deserves to be drugged up and helpless when a man takes her."

Once again, he flicked his blade, this time across Chau's cheek, cutting to the bone. Chau grabbed his face in shock, the salt from his tears burning in the fresh wound. "Please," he cried. "I'm sorry, I swear."

"It ain't me needin' the apology," Jayne spat out.

Chau looked at him, eyes wide with genuine horror. 'What are you going to do to me?"

Jayne looked at him steadily. "Well, Cap'n gave me an hour with Wing, but I ain't got that kinda' time tonight. So, I'm thinkin' I'll have to be quick-like."

Before Chau could make another plea, Jayne drew his knife cleanly across the tender flesh of Chau's neck. And wiping his blade carefully on Chau's sleeve, he headed back to Serenity.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	19. Chapter 19

**Revolution**

**Part XIX—Full Circle**

Author: just-slummin

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Conclusion. Jayne has a little difficulty returning to the ship, and Mal discovers something he thought he'd never see again.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Jayne arrived at the docks to look for Serenity's berth, Alliance officers were swarming all around, stopping every pedestrian and searching every ship. Jayne was herded unceremoniously into a line of people waiting to be processed.

"What the hell's goin' on here?" he whispered to the man in front of him.

"Some raid at one of the warehouses went all pear-shaped," the man replied. "Heard tell that 'bout twenty of the soldiers from the garrison got killed, maybe more. Even got the commander of the place, so they say."

The line inched slowly forward, and Jayne spent his time scanning the docks for Serenity or any of her crew. As he got nearer to the Alliance officer presiding over the line, he could see Serenity clearly for the first time. Pleased to see that there were no more Alliance personnel around Serenity than there were around any other ship, he also noted Chau's hovercraft parked far enough away not to be connected with the ship in the mind of anyone who might be looking. Knowing that meant that Zoe and River had gotten the Captain and the Operative safely aboard, Jayne relaxed slightly.

Just as he was devising a story to tell the officer, he was horrified to see Inara striding purposefully in his direction. Giving him a warning look when she saw his mouth open to speak, Inara turned her considerable charm to the officer in charge. "Sir," she said sweetly, "I know that you are quite busy with this terrible tragedy on your hands. Perhaps I could relieve you of at least a little of your burden."

The officer looked at her hungrily, having never seen a more beautiful creature in his life. "How's that?" he managed to get out.

"Well," Inara began, lowering her head submissively, "you see that man right there?" She pointed a delicate finger at Jayne. "That man is my bodyguard. I didn't know all of this was going on, and I sent him out to perform an errand for me. I would never have done it if I had known it would cause you a moment's trouble." She looked up at him through long lashes. "So, you see, it's quite my fault that he's even here. With your permission, I'll just take him back to my ship."

"Which ship was that?" the officer asked politely.

"The one over there," she said, touching his arm as she pointed again. "Serenity. I believe your men have already been on board this evening."

The officer flipped through his paperwork. "Oh yes," he said finally. "The Firefly captained by Zoe Washburne."

"That's right," Inara said, giving his arm a delicate squeeze. "May we go now?"

"Of course," the officer replied, distracted pleasantly by the faint smell of lavender that seemed to float around her. "But it may be a little while before I can give you clearance to leave the dock. I'll do what I can to hurry it along."

"That would be lovely. You're too kind," Inara said, favoring him with a smile that short-circuited his brain for a long moment. Turning to Jayne, she said easily, "Come along."

Jayne followed behind her, almost sorry for the hundan. He'd had no idea what had just hit him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal lay on the smaller of the two infirmary beds, being briefed by Zoe. "Seems as if Peter was right," Zoe said. "From what we can piece together, the Underground folks had been called together by James Chin."

"The man who disappeared a few weeks ago?" Mal asked, still a little groggy from blood loss and pain meds.

"That's right," Zoe answered. "As near as we can tell, he musta' spent some time in Thompson's lab. Called 'em all together for what turned out to be an ambush. Alliance soldiers from the garrison surrounded the building. Only they weren't expectin' John, Peter, and Mei Ling to be there, armed and waiting."

"Did they get out okay?" Mal asked, having a sudden flash of Peter talking about his special girl.

"The three of them did, and about two-thirds of the others. Alliance killed the rest, including Chin, who they say went down protectin' his people. Alliance lost about twenty of their own in the process."

"Where are the survivors now?" Mal asked.

"Couldn't say," Zoe answered. "Just told me they were safe for now, and that they'd be in touch when we get off Osiris."

Mal nodded, feeling a powerful need to close his eyes. "So, what are we supposed to do with him?" he asked, motioning weakly to the Operative.

"Sell him to slavers?" Zoe suggested, her expression bland but a twinkle in her eye.

Mal snorted. "Wouldn't fetch much of a price, unconscious and all." He paused for a moment, turning suddenly serious. "Much as I hate to do it, we need to restrain him in case he wakes up. Ain't got a notion what kinda' go se he's been programmed to do, and I'm not sure I'm up to findin' out."

Zoe nodded. "Already done, sir. We weren't sure either."

Mal nodded his thanks, yawning widely. "Then I guess I'll just sleep a mite, if everything's under control."

"Yes sir," Zoe replied. "Good night, sir."

XXXXXXXXXX

Simon lay down on his bed, exhausted. "You done good today, honey," Kaylee said, snuggling up to his side.

"Not so sure about that," Simon murmured sleepily. "The Operative's still not awake, and Mal lost a lot more blood than he should have."

"Yeah, well, that weren't your fault," Kaylee said indignantly. "If'n we hadn't had to shove him into that hole in the wall of the cargo bay to hide him when those purple bellies were searchin' the ship, Cap'n wouldn't have started bleeding again."

Simon sighed, wondering at what point such situations had started to seem normal to him. "Still, it could have been worse," he said. "At least River and Zoe and Jayne came back all right."

Kaylee smiled up at him. "Well now, that was a right optimistic way to look at things," she said happily.

Simon looked at his beautiful wife, her eyes shining brightly in the low light of their bunk, and suddenly the worries of the day were lifted. Pulling her closer to him, he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first, and then with more insistence. Deepening the kiss, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, reveling in the small sigh of pleasure the action elicited. As Kaylee's hands began their own exploration, it occurred to Simon that this might be the perfect time to put his baby-making plans into action.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mal awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of River's voice whispering somewhere in the room. He looked around to discover the Operative looking back at him, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Hello, Captain Reynolds," he said quietly. "I understand I am indebted to you once again."

"Glad to see you're back among the living," Mal said.

"Yes, thanks to your lovely wife, I think," he said, turning his attention to River.

Mal's heart began to beat strangely. "What did you do, River?"

"Nothing dangerous," she replied soothingly. "Helped him find the way home. Wanted to see the damage for myself."

The Operative shifted uncomfortably. "So, there was damage?"

"Some," River said in a small voice. "Can be repaired, given time and adequate de-programming. Triggers must be removed. Defenses re-built. Balance restored."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Mal said, concerned that River had exposed herself to such potential danger.

She turned her luminous eyes to him and rested her hand on his chest. "Not a problem. My defenses were unbreached." She turned to go, glancing back at the Operative. "Mei Ling will call soon. She will take you to get the help you require. They will care for you because you cared for them."

The Operative nodded, oddly moved by the simplicity of her statement. When River left the infirmary, he turned to Mal. "She told me what you did for the troops, and what you did for me."

Mal said tiredly, "Couldn't just leave 'em all to die. Wish I could have gotten them all out, but I guess River told you what happened on Lilac."

"One hundred lost out of forty thousand is a miracle," the Operative said softly.

"I wouldn't have thought you believed in miracles," Mal answered.

"I'm beginning to."

There was quiet for a long moment. "Yeah, guess I am too," Mal replied, somewhat mystified by the truth of the words. "Will you be recalling the army?"

The Operative pondered the question for a long time.

Finally, Mal said, "You know what your sin is?"

The Operative looked at him in surprise. "What would you say it is, Captain?"

"If you're even considerin' callin' those boys back to die, I'd say it's pride," Mal answered softly. "Or stupidity."

"I don't think 'stupidity' is one of the seven," the Operative replied mildly.

"Maybehaps not, but I'm thinkin' it'd be a good addition to the eighth slot."

The Operative sighed, exhausted from his recent ordeal. "I am, according to your wife, too incapacitated to organize an army. Freedom from the yoke of the Alliance is a noble idea whose time has not yet come. It will happen someday, but perhaps I am not the man who will accomplish it."

"They'll be tightening their grip on everything they can reach," Mal observed quietly.

"Yes," the Operative acknowledged. "But their reach is not infinite, and their vigilance will weaken in time."

The men lay quietly, each lost in his own thoughts and worries about the future.

XXXXXXXXXX

Early the next morning, Mal was delighted to see Adam toddling into the infirmary, followed by River wielding a breakfast tray. Setting it carefully to Mal's side, River lifted Adam up and sat him gingerly on Mal's lap.

"How you doin' there, little one?" Mal asked, hugging his son with his good arm.

Adam grinned, displaying his newest tooth. "Me yook after Daddy."

"Yes, you did," Mal said, a lump rising in his throat.

Reaching up to touch the bandage across Mal's upper torso, Adam asked, "Daddy hurt?"

"A little," Mal admitted. "But I'll be just fine real soon."

Adam looked at him skeptically, with an expression so much like his mother's that it took Mal's breath away. Deciding his father was telling him the truth, Adam grinned again. "Daddy wanna pway with me?"

"Think I'd best eat my breakfast first," Mal answered. Pulling the tray over to him, Mal started to eat awkwardly with his left hand, causing Adam to giggle.

"Daddy messy," he said. "Mama help."

"Hey now," Mal protested. "It ain't that bad."

River moved Adam over and sat on the side of the bed, taking the fork from Mal and cleaning the dropped food from his chest. "He may be right, ai ren. Let me help."

Mal leaned back against the pillow, thinking about the miracle of the woman and child with him. He knew exactly where he'd been when he'd lost his faith, but he wasn't as sure of where he had been when he found it again. He only knew, with bedrock certainty, that he had found it somewhere in his love for this woman and his child. Like the revolutions of a wheel, Malcolm Reynolds' journeys had led him back full circle to a new beginning.

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's note: So ends another tale of Serenity's crew. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it, and I would like to take the opportunity to thank you for sticking with this one to its conclusion, as it was admittedly a rather long read. As always, I especially appreciate those who took an extra moment to leave their feedback. It always makes the writing process that much more pleasurable to me.


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